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HYMNS  OF  THE  AGES. 


Uniform  with  this  Volume. 


HYMNS   OF  THE  AGES. 
First  Series. 

Being  Selections   from   Lyra  Catholica,  Germanica,  Apostolica,  and  other 
Sources.    With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  F.  D.  Huntington,  D.  D. 
One  Volume. 


HTMNS   OF  THE  AGES, 
Second  Series. 

Being   Selections  from  Wither,  Crashaw,  Southwell,   Habington,  and 
other  Sources.    One  Volume. 


TICKNOR  AND  FIELDS,  Publishers. 


HYMNS  OF  THE  AGES. 


THIRD  SERIES. 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR   AND  FIELDS. 
1865. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  hy 
TICKNOR    AND  FIELDS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press: 
Welch,   Bigelow,  and  Company, 
Cambridge. 


Preface. 


THE  private  commonplace-book  which  found 
its  way  into  print  some  years  ago,  and  to 
which,  from  a  certain  flavor  of  antiquity  in  its 
contents,  we  gave  the  title  of  Hymns  of  the  Ages, 
is  swelling  to  an  anthology. 

In  editing  our  firft  series  we  hardly  knew  from 
what  a  perennial  ftream  we  had  dipped,  and  to 
what  an  indulgent  public  the  draught  was  offered. 
More  careful  research  has  surprised  and  bewildered 
us  with  our  riches.  We  have  not  room  to-day 
for  half  the  material  which  lies  before  us  in  manu- 
script. 

The  Ages  all  resound  with  sacred  song,  the 
elders  having  every  one  of  them  harps,  and  gold- 
en vials  full  of  odors,  which  are  the  prayers 
of  saints";   and   for  this  youngeft  age,  with  its 

teachings  of  God,"  who  is  so  dull  that  he  would 


VI 


Preface. 


not  turn  from  all  traditions  of  the  elders  rather 
than  lose  its  ring,  —  none  surer  to  reach  the 
Throne  ! 

The  present  differs  from  our  previous  series  in 
the  larger  space  accorded  to  hymns  In  Time 
of  War,"  and  For  Old  Age."  We  have  been 
advised  to  include  hymns  by  Watts,  Wefley,  Cow- 
per,  and  others,  which  had  been  rejeded  hitherto 
as  common  in  Church  colledions ;  and  have  also 
given  as  many  as  we  could  find  of  the  myftical, 
tender  songs  of  Madame  Guyon,  they  being  out 
of  print  in  this  country. 

Nor  have  we  failed  to  discover  a  few  more  of 
the  rich  old  Latin  hymns  which,  filtering  down 
through  German  and  Englifh  tranflations,  sink 
as  deeply  into  the  heart  to-day  as  if  they  had  only 
now  reached  native  ground;  proving  fi:ill  that 
before  the  Eternal  all  hearts  are  one,  and  the 
centuries  are  but  as  watches  of  a  night. 

"  Every  inmost  aspiration  is  God's  angel  undefiled  ; 
And  in  every  *0  my  Father!'  (lumbers  deep  a  *  Here,  my 
Child!'" 

C.  S.  W. 
A.  E.  G. 

RoxBURY,  Odober  3,  1864. 


Contents. 


PAGE 

In  Time  of  War   i 

Affliction   35 

Patience   69 

Prayer   78 

Praise   133 

Self-Examination   147 

God   158 

Christ   166 

The  Holy  Spirit   175 

Love   181 

Quiet   221 

Old  Age   245 

Death   275 

Heaven   288 

Sunday   304 

The  One  Church   316 

Index  to  First  Lines   325 


IN  TIME  OF  WAR. 


TO-DAY  IF  YE  WILL  HEAR  HIS  VOICE! 

OUR  God  !  our  God  !  Thou  fhineft  here 
Thine  own  this  latter  day  ; 
To  us  thy  radiant  fteps  appear ; 
Here  leads  thy  glorious  way  ! 

We  fhine  not  only  with  the  light 
Thou  didft  fhed  down  of  yore  ; 

On  us  thou  ftreameft  ftrong  and  bright  ; 
Thy  comings  are  not  o'er. 

The  fathers  had  not  all  of  thee  ; 

New  births  are  in  thy  grace  ; 
All  open  to  our  souls  lliall  be 

Thy  glory's  hiding-place. 

We  gaze  on  thy  outgoings  bright, 

Down  Cometh  thy  full  power ; 
We,  the  glad  bearers  of  thy  light ; 

This,  this  thy  saving  hour ! 


2 


In  Time  of  War. 


On  us  thy  spirit  haft  thou  poured  ; 

To  us  thy  word  has  come  ; 
We  feel,  we  bless,  thy  quickening.  Lord  ! 

Thou  (halt  not  find  us  dumb. 

Thou  comeft  near  ;  thou  ftandeft  by  ; 

Our  work  begins  to  ftiine  ; 
Thou  dwelleft  with  us  mightily, — 

On  come  the  years  divine  ! 

r.  H.  Gill. 


OLD  AND  NEW. 

O SOMETIMES  gleams  upon  our  fight, 
Through  present  wrong,  the  Eternal  Right  ! 
And  ftep  by  ftep,  fince  time  began, 
We  see  the  fteady  gain  of  man  ;  — 

That  all  of  good  the  paft  hath  had 
Remains  to  make  our  own  time  glad, 
Our  common  daily  life  divine. 
And  every  land  a  Paleftine. 

We  lack  but  open  eye  and  ear 
To  find  the  Orient's  marvels  here, — 
The  ftill  small  voice  in  autumn's  hufh. 
Yon  maple  wood  the  burning  bufh. 


In  Time  of  War,  3 

For  ftill  the  new  transcends  the  old, 
In  figns  and  tokens  manifold  : 
Slaves  rise  up  men  ;  the  olive  waves 
With  roots  deep  set  in  battle  graves. 

Through  the  harfh  noises  of  our  day 
A  low,  sweet  prelude  finds  its  way  ; 
Through  clouds  of  doubt  and  creeds  of  fear 
A  light  is  breaking,  calm  and  clear. 

Henceforth  my  heart  fhall  figh  no  more 
For  olden  time  and  holier  fhore  ; 
God's  love  and  bleffing,  then  and  there. 
Are  now,  and  here,  and  everywhere. 

7.  G.  mittier. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  LORD  ! 


THE  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand,  at  hand. 
The  ftorms  roll  up  the  Iky  ; 
A  nation  fleeps  ftarving  on  heaps  of  gold, 

All  dreamers  toss  and  figh. 
When  the  pain  is  sorefl:,  the  child  is  born. 
And  the  day  is  darkeft  before  the  morn 

Of  the  day  of  the  Lord  at  hand. 


4  In  Time  of  War. 

Gather  you,  gather  you,  angels  of  God  ; 

Chivalry,  Juftice,  and  Truth  ; 
Come,  for  the  earth  is  grown  coward  and  eld  ; 

Come  down  and  renew  us  her  youth  ! 
Freedom,  Self-sacrifice,  Mercy,  and  Love, 
Hafte  to  the  battle-field,  ftoop  from  above. 
To  the  day  of  the  Lord  at  hand. 

Gather  you,  gather  you,  hounds  of  hell,  — 

Famine,  and  Plague,  and  War ; 
Idleness,  Bigotry,  Cant,  and  Misrule, 

Gather,  —  and  fall  in  the  snare! 
Hirelings  and  Mammonites,  Pedants  and  Knaves, 
Crawl  to  the  battle,  or  sneak  to  your  graves. 
In  the  day  of  the  Lord  at  hand. 

Who  would  fit  down  and  whine  for  a  loft  Age  of  Gold 

While  the  Lord  of  all  ages  is  here  ? 
True  hearts  will  leap  up  at  the  trumpet  of  God, 

And  those  who  can  suffer  can  dare. 
Each  paft  Age  of  Gold  was  an  iron  age  too, 
And  the  meekeft  of  saints  may  find  ftern  work  to  do 
In  the  day  of  the  Lord  at  hand. 

Rev.  Charles  King  [ley. 


In  Time  of  JV ar. 


5 


BATTLE  HYMN   OF  THE  REPUBLIC. 

MINE  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the 
Lord: 

He  is  trampHng  out  the  vintage  where  the  grapes  of  wrath 
are  ftored  ; 

He  hath  loosed  the  fateful  lightnings  of  His  terrible  swift 
sword  : 

His  truth  is  marching  on. 

I  have  seen  him  in  the  watch-fires  of  a  hundred  circling 
camps  ; 

They  have  builded  Him  an  altar  in  the  evening  dews  and 
damps  ; 

I  can  read  His  righteous  sentence  bv  the  dim  and  flaring 
lamps  : 

His  day  is  marching  on. 

I  have  read  a  fiery  gospel  writ  in  burnifhed  rows  of  fteel  : 
As  ye  deal  with  my  contemners,  so  with  you  my  grace 
'  fhall  deal  ; 

Let  the  Hero,  born  of  woman,  crufh  the  serpent  with  his 
heel. 

Since  God  is  marching  on." 


6 


In  Tune  of  U  ar. 


I  He  has  sounded  forth  the  trumpet  that  lhall  never  call 
[  retreat  ; 

I     He  is  lifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  His  judsment- 
seat : 

Oh,  be  swift,  mv  soul,  to  answer  Him  '  be  jubilant,  mv 
j  feet  I 

Our  God  is  marching  on. 

In  the  beautv  of  the  lilies  Chrift  was  born  across  the  sea, 
^Vith  a  glorv  in  his  bosom  that  transfigures  vou  and  me  : 
As  he  died  to  make  men  holv,  let  us  die  to  make  men  free. 

While  God  is  marching  on. 

Mn.  Julia  IFard  Hoiue. 


w 


THY   WILL   BE  DOXE. 

rE  see  not,  know  not  ;  all  our  wav 


Is  night  :  with  Thee  alone  is  da\ 
From  out  the  torrent's  troubled  drift. 
Above  the  llorm  our  praver  we  lift, 
Thv  will  be  done  I 

The  flefh  mav  fail,  the  heart  mav  faint, 
But  who  are  we  to  make  complaint. 
Or  dare  to  plead  in  times  like  these 
The  weakness  of  our  lo\'e  of  ease? 
Thv  will  be  done  ! 


In  Time  of  War. 


7 


We  take  with  solemn  thankfulness 
Our  burden  up,  nor  afk  it  less, 
And  count  it  joy  that  even  we 
May  suffer,  serve,  or  wait  for  Thee, 
Whose  will  be  done  ! 

Though  dim  as  yet  in  tint  and  line. 
We  trace  Thy  picSlure's  wise  defign. 
And  thank  Thee  that  our  age  supplies 
The  dark  relief  of  sacrifice. 

Thy  will  be  done  ! 

And  if,  in  our  unworthiness. 
Thy  sacrificial  wine  we  press. 
If  from  Thy  ordeal's  heated  bars 
Our  feet  are  seamed  with  crimson  scars. 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

If,  for  the  age  to  come,  this  hour 
Of  trial  hath  vicarious  power. 
And,  bleft  by  thee,  our  present  pain 
Be  Liberty's  eternal  gain. 

Thy  will  be  done  ! 

Strike,  Thou  the  Mafter,  we  Thy  keys. 
The  anthem  of  the  deftinies  ! 
The  minor  of  Thy  loftier  ftrain. 
Our  hearts  fhall  breathe  the  old  refrain. 
Thy  will  be  done  ! 

J.  G.  Whittier. 


In  Time  of  War. 


ST.  CHRISTOPHER. 

CARRY  me  across  !  " 
The  Syrian  heard,  rose  up  and  braced 
His  huge  limbs  to  the  accuftomed  toil : 
"  My  child,  see  how  the  waters  boil 
The  night-black  heavens  look  angry-faced  ; 
But  life  is  little  loss. 

"  I  '11  carry  thee  with  joy. 
If  needs  be,  safe  as  neftling  dove  : 
f  or  o'er  this  ftream  I  pilgrims  bring 
In  service  to  one  Chrift,  a  King 
Whom  I  have  never  seen,  yet  love." 

"  I  thank  thee,"  said  the  boy. 

Cheerful,  Arprobus  took 
The  burden  on  his  (boulders  great. 
And  ftepped  into  the  waves  once  more  ; 
When  lo  !  thev  leaping  rise  and  roar, 
And  'neath  the  little  child's  light  weight 

The  tottering  giant  fhook. 

"  Who  art  thou  \  "  cried  he  wild. 
Struggling  in  middle  of  the  ford  : 
"  Boy  as  thou  look'ft,  it  seems  to  me 


In  Time  of  War. 


9 


The  whole  world's  load  I  bear  in  thee, 
Yet  —  "    "For  the  sake  of  Chrift,  thy  Lord, 
Carry  me,"  said  the  child. 

No  more  Arprobus  swerved. 
But  gained  the  farther  bank,  and  then 
A  voice  cried,  "  Hence  Chrift opheros  be  ! 
For  carrying,  thou  haft  carried  me. 
The  King  of  angels  and  of  men. 

The  Mafter  thou  haft  served." 

And  in  the  moonlight  blue 
The  saint  saw  —  not  the  wandering  boy. 
But  Him  who  walked  upon  the  sea 
And  o'er  the  plains  of  Galilee, 
Till,  filled  with  myftic,  awful  joy. 

His  dear  Lord  Chrift  he  knew. 

O,  little  is  all  loss, 
And  brief  the  space  'twixt  fhore  and  fhore. 
If  thou.  Lord  Jesus,  on  us  lay. 
Through  the  deep  waters  of  our  way. 
The  burden  that  Chriftopheros  bore,  — 

To  carry  Thee  across. 

Miss  D.  Muloch, 


10  In  Time  of  Wa 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  TRUTH. 

THOU,  long  disowned,  reviled,  oppreft, 
Strange  friend  of  human  kind. 
Seeking  through  weary  years  a  reft 
Within  our  hearts  to  find  \  — 

How  late  thy  bright  and  awful  brow 
Breaks  through  these  clouds  of  fin  ! 

Hail,  Truth  Divine  !  we  know  thee  now. 
Angel  of  God,  come  in  ! 

Come,  though  with  purifying  fire. 

And  desolating  sword. 
Thou  of  all  nations  the  defire  ! 

Earth  waits  thy  cleanfing  word. 

Struck  by  the  lightning  of  thy  glance, 

Let  old  oppreffions  die  ; 
Before  thy  cloudless  countenance 

Let  fear  and  falsehood  fly. 

Anoint  our  eyes  with  healing  grace. 

To  see,  as  ne'er  before. 
Our  Father  in  our  brother's  face. 

Our  Maker  in  His  poor. 


In  Time  of  War. 


Hood  our  dark  life  with  golden  day  ; 

Convince,  subdue,  enthrall ; 
Then  to  a  mightier  yield  thy  sway. 

And  Love  be  all  in  all. 

Eli%a  Sc udder. 


REIGN  OF  CHRIST. 


KINGDOMS  and  thrones  to  God  belong; 
Crown  him,  ye  nations,  in  your  song  ; 
His  wondrous  names  and  powers  rehearse  ; 
His  honors  shall  enrich  your  verse. 

He  fhakes  the  heavens  with  loud  alarms  ; 
How  terrible  is  God  in  arms ! 
In  Israel  are  his  mercies  known  ; 
Israel  is  his  peculiar  throne. 

Proclaim  him  King,  —  pronounce  him  bleft  ; 
He  is  your  life,  your  joy,  your  reft  ; 
When  terrors  rise,  and  nations  faint, 
God  is  the  ftrength  of  every  saint. 

Isaac  W atts. 


12 


In  Time  of  IV ar. 


THE  foe  behind,  the  deep  before, 
Our  hofts  have  dared  and  paffed  the  sea  : 
And  Pharaoh's  warriors  ftrew  the  fhore, 
And  Israel's  ransomed  tribes  are  free. 
Lift  up,  Hft  up  your  voices  now  ! 
The  whole  wide  world  rejoices  now  ! 
The  Lord  hath  triumphed  glorioufly  ! 
The  Lord  fhall  reign  vicSlorioufly  ! 
Happy  morrow. 
Turning  sorrow 

Into  peace  and  mirth  ! 
Bondage  ending. 
Love  descending 

O'er  the  earth  ! 
Seals  alTuring, 
Guards  securing, 

Watch  his  earthly  prison  : 
Seals  are  fhattered. 
Guards  are  scattered, 
Chrift  hath  risen  ! 


No  longer  muft  the  mourners  weep, 
Nor  call  departed  Chriftians  dead  ; 
For  death  is  hallowed  into  fleep 
And  every  grave  becomes  a  bed. 
Now  once  more 
Eden's  door 


In  Time  of  War. 


Open  ftands  to  mortal  eyes  ; 
For  Chrift  hath  risen,  and  men  fhall  rise  : 
Now  at  laft, 
Old  things  paft, 
Hope  and  joy  and  peace  begin  : 
For  Chrift  hath  won,  and  man  fhall  win. 

It  is  not  exile,  reft  on  high  : 

It  is  not  sadness,  peace  from  ftrife  : 
To  fall  afleep  is  not  to  die  ; 

To  dwell  with  Chrift  is  better  life. 
Where  our  banner  leads  us. 

We  may  safely  go  : 
Where  our  Chief  precedes  us. 

We  may  face  the  foe. 
His  right  arm  is  o'er  us. 

He  will  guide  us  through  : 
Chrift  hath  gone  before  us  ; 
Chriftians  !  follow  you  ! 

y.  M.  Neale.  1851, 


THUS  saith  God  of  His  Anointed  ; 
He  ftiall  let  my  people  go  ; 
'T  is  the  work  for  Him  appointed, 
'T  is  the  work  that  He  ftiall  do  ; 
And  my  city 
He  {hall  found,  and  build  it  too. 


I 


In  Tune  of  War, 


He  whom  man  with  scorn  refuses, 

Whom  the  favored  nation  hates, 
He  it  is  Jehovah  chooses. 

Him  the  higheft  place  awaits  ; 
Kings  and  princes 
Shall  do  homage  at  His  gates. 

He  fhall  humble  all  the  scorners, 
He  fhall  fill  His  foes  with  fhame  ; 

He  (hall  raise  and  comfort  mourners 
By  the  sweetness  of  His  name  ; 
To  the  captives 

He  fhall  liberty  proclaim. 

He  fhall  gather  those  that  wandered  ; 

When  they  hear  the  trumpet's  sound, 
They  fhall  join  the  sacred  ftandard. 
They  fhall  come  and  flock  around  ; 
He  fhall  save  them. 
They  fhall  be  with  glory  crowned. 

Thomas  Kelley.  1^09. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  BATTLE. 

FATHER,  I  call  on  thee. 
Through  the  dun  smoke  and  the  clangor  of  battle. 
The  lightning  and  dread  thunder's  rattle  ; 
War's  great  Dispenser,  I  call  on  thee. 
Thou,  Father,  lead  me. 


In  Time  of  War. 

15 

Thou,  Father,  lead  me  ; 

Lead  me  to  victory,  or  lead  me  to  death. 

Lord,  in  thy  hand  is  my  breath  ; 

1  yOrn     'A'i,  tnnii   willpir     <^^   Ip3n  me 

God,  I  would  know  thee. 

God,  I  would  know  thee  ; 

When,  like  the  autumn  leaves  driven  together, 

Hofts  meet  in  war's  thunder-weather. 

Sniirrp  fif  mv  (aith    T  wniild  know  thee 

kjv_iuiv^v^    yj  v     iiiy                      x     wv^uivi    iviiwvv  cii^v^. 

Thou,  Father,  bless  me. 

Thou,  Father,  bless  me. 

Into  thy  hands  would  my  freed  spirit  go  ; 

Recall  it,  for  thou  didft  beftow. 

In  life  and  in  death  do  thou  bless  me. 

Father,  I  praise  thee. 

Father,  I  praise  thee. 

This  is  the  field  for  the  fight  of  the  Lord  \ 

Guard  we  our  faith  with  the  sword. 

In  fall  nr  in  truimnh     T  nral<sp  thpp 

J.11      idil      \J\.       Ill      LllUlll^ll,      A      |Jl£lloV^  tllV^V^. 

God,  I  give  all  to  thee. 

God,  I  give  all  to  thee. 

When,  on  the  battle-field,  death  sends  me  greeting. 

When  my  warm  life-blood  is  fleeting, 

Take  me,  for  thou  haft  redeemed  me. 

Father,  I  call  on  thee. 

From  the  German  of  Korner.    1791-  i8 

•3- 

i6 


In  Time  of  IVar. 


PSALM. 

A SAFE  ftronghold  our  God  is  ftill, 
A  trufty  fhield  and  weapon  ; 
He  '11  help  us  clear  from  all  the  ill 
That  hath  us  now  o'ertaken. 
The  ancient  prince  of  Hell 
Hath  risen  with  purpose  fell  ; 
Strong  mail  of  craft  and  power 
He  weareth  in  this  hour  : 
On  earth  is  not  his  fellow. 

With  force  of  arms  we  nothing  can  ; 

Full  soon  were  we  down-ridden, 
But  for  us  fights  the  proper  man, 
Whom  God  himself  hath  bidden. 
Alk  ye,  who  is  this  same  ? 
Chrift  Jesus  is  his  name. 
The  Lord  Zebaoth's  Son  : 
He,  and  no  other  one. 
Shall  conquer  in  the  battle. 

And  were  this  world  all  devils  o'er 
And  watching  to  devour  us, 

We  lay  it  not  to  heart  so  sore. 
Not  that  they  can  overpower  us. 


In  Time  of  War, 


And  let  the  prince  of  Hell 
Look  grim  as  e'er  he  will, 
He  harms  us  not  a  whit  ; 
For  why  ?     His  doom  is  writ, 
A  word  fhall  quickly  flay  him. 


God's  word,  for  all  their  craft  and  force. 

One  moment  will  not  linger. 
But,  spite  of  Hell,  fhall  have  its  course  : 
'Tis  written  by  his  finger. 

And  though  they  take  our  life. 
Goods,  honor,  children,  wife. 
Yet  is  their  profit  small  : 
These  things  fhall  vanifh  all. 
The  City  of  God  remaineth. 

Martin  Luther.     1483- 1501. 


BURIED  TOGETHER. 


TO   COLONEL    ROBERT   G.  SHAW. 


O FAIR-HAIRED  Northern  hero. 
With  thy  guard  of  dufky  hue. 
Up  from  the  field  of  battle 
Rise  to  the  laft  review! 


i8 


In  Time  of  War, 


Sweep  downwards,  holy  angels, 

In  legions  dazzling  bright. 
And  bear  these  souls  together 

Before  Chrift's  throne  of  light. 

The  Mafter,  who  remembers 

The  cross,  the  thorns,  the  spear. 

Smiles  on  the  risen  freedmen, 
As  their  ransomed  souls  appear. 

And  thou,  young,  generous  spirit. 

What  will  thy  welcome  be  ? 
"  Thou  haft  aided  the  down-trodden. 

Thou  haft  done  it  unto  me  !  " 

Mrs.  R.  a  Waterjlon. 


C"^  O  to  the  grave  in  all  thy  glorious  prime, 
^     In  full  activity  of  zeal  and  power  ; 
A  Chriftian  cannot  die  before  his  time  ; 

The  Lord's  appointment  is  the  servant's  hour. 

Go  to  the  grave  ;  at  noon  from  labor  cease  ; 

Reft  on  thy  fheaves  ;  thy  harveft-talk  is  done  j 
Come  from  the  heat  of  battle,  and  in  peace. 

Soldier,  go  home  ;   with  thee  the  fight  is  won. 


In  Time  of  War,  19 


Go  to  the  grave  ;  for  there  thy  Saviour  lay 
In  death's  embrace,  ere  he  arose  on  high  ; 

And  all  the  ransomed,  by  that  narrow  u^ay. 
Pass  to  eternal  life  beyond  the  Iky. 

Go  to  the  grave  ;  —  no  ;  take  thy  seat  above  ; 

Be  thy  pure  spirit  present  with  the  Lord, 
Where  thou  for  faith  and  hope  haft  perfedt  love. 

And  open  vilion  for  the  written  word. 

J.  Montgomery,     1 803  -  1 8 5  3 . 


OHOLY  Father,  juft  and  true 
Are  all  thy  works  and  words  and  ways. 
And  unto  thee  alone  are  due 

Thanksgiving  and  eternal  praise  ! 
As  children  of  thy  gracious  care, 

We  veil  the  eye,  we  bend  the  knee. 
With  broken  words  of  praise  and  prayer. 
Father  and  God,  we  come  to  thee. 

For  thou  haft  heard,  O  God  of  right. 
The  fighing  of  the  hapless  flave  ; 

And  ftretched  for  him  the  arm  of  might, 
Not  ftiortened  that  it  could  not  save. 


In  Time  of  IVar, 


The  laborer  fits  beneath  his  vine, 

The  {hackled  soul  and  hand  are  free  ;  — 

Thanksgiving!  —  for  the  work  is  thine! 
Praise  !  —  for  the  blelling  is  of  thee. 

Speed  on  thy  work,  Lord  God  of  hofls  ! 

And  when  the  bondsman's  chain  is  riven, 
And  swells  from  all  our  country's  coafts 

The  anthem  of  the  free  to  heaven, 
O,  not  to  those  whom  thou  hafi:  led. 

As  with  thy  cloud  and  fire  before, 
But  unto  thee,  in  fear  and  dread. 

Be  praise  and  glory  evermore. 

J.  G.  mittier. 


PREPARE  YE  THE  WAY  OF  THE  LORD. 

A    VOICE  from  the  desert  comes  awful  and  fhrill  ; 
The  Lord  is  advancing  ;  prepare  ye  the  way  ! 
The  word  of  his  promise  he  comes  to  fulfil. 
And  o'er  the  dark  world  pour  the  splendor  of  day. 

Bring  down  the  proud  mountain,  though  towering  to  heaven, 
And  be  the  low  valley  exalted  on  high ; 
The  rough  path  and  crooked  be  made  smooth  and  even, 
He  Cometh  !  our  King,  our  Redeemer  is  nigh. 


In  Time  of  War. 


21 


The  beams  of  salvation  his  progress  illume, 
The  lone,  dreary  wilderness  fings  of  her  God  ; 
The  rose  and  the  myrtle  there  suddenly  bloom, 
And  the  olive  of  peace  spreads  its  branches  abroad. 

Drummond.     1 5  8  5  -  1 649 . 


OPPRESSION  fhall  not  always  reign; 
There  comes  a  brighter  day, 
When  freedom,  burft  from  every  chain. 

Shall  have  triumphant  way. 
Then  right  fhall  over  might  prevail. 
And  truth,  like  hero  armed  in  mail, 
The  hofts  of  tyrant  wrong  afTail, 
And  hold  eternal  sway. 

What  voice  fhall  bid  the  progress  ftay 

Of  truth's  victorious  car  ? 
What  arm  arreft  the  growing  day. 

Or  quench  the  solar  ftar  ? 
What  reckless  soul,  though  ftout  and  ftrong, 
Shall  dare  bring  back  the  ancient  wrong, 
Oppreflion's  guilty  night  prolong. 

And  freedom's  morning  bar  ? 

The  hour  of  triumph  comes  apace. 
The  fated,  promised  hour. 


22 


In  T^iTTie  of  IVar. 


When  earth  upon  a  ransomed  race 
Her  bounteous  gifts  fhall  fhower. 

Ring,  Liberty,  thy  glorious  bell  ! 

Bid  high  thy  sacred  banner  swell  ! 

Let  trump  on  trump  the  triumph  tell 
Of  Heaven's  redeeming  power. 

Rev.  H.  Ware,  Jr. 


OUT  of  the  dark  the  circling  sphere 
Is  rounding  onward  to  the  light ; 
We  see  not  yet  the  full  day  here. 
But  we  do  see  the  paling  night  ; 

And  Hope,  that  lights  her  fadeless  fires, 
And  Faith,  that  fhines,  a  heavenly  will. 
And  Love,  that  courage  reinspires, — 
These  ftars  have  been  above  us  ftill. 

O  sentinels  !   whose  tread  we  heard. 
Through  long  hours  when  we  could  not  see. 
Pause  now  ;   exchange  with  cheer  the  word. 
The  unchanging  watchword,  —  Liberty! 

Look  backward,  how  much  has  been  won  ! 
Look  round,  how  much  is  yet  to  win  ! 
The  watches  of  the  night  are  done  ; 
The  watches  of  the  day  begin. 


In  Time  of  War. 


23 


O  Thou,  whose  mighty  patience  holds 
The  day  and  night  alike  in  view, 
Thy  will  our  deareft  hopes  enfolds, 
O  keep  us  fteadfaft,  patient,  true  ! 

Rev,  S.  Longfellow. 


CLEAR  THE  WAY. 


EN  of  thought  !  be  up  and  ftirring 
Night  and  day  ! 


Sow  the  seed,  withdraw  the  curtain. 

Clear  the  way  ! 
Men  of  a£tion,  aid  and  cheer  them 

As  ye  may  ! 
There 's  a  fount  about  to  ftream  ; 
There 's  a  light  about  to  beam  \ 
There 's  a  warmth  about  to  glow  ; 
There 's  a  flower  about  to  blow  \ 
There 's  a  midnight  blackness  changing 

Into  gray. 
Men  of  thought  and  men  of  a6lion, 

Clear  the  way  ! 

Once  the  welcome  light  has  broken, 

Who  fhall  say 
What  the  unimagined  glories 

Of  the  day  ? 


24 


In  Time  of  I  Far. 


What  the  evil  that  fhall  perifh 

In  its  ray  ? 
Aid  the  dawning,  tongue  and  pen  ; 
Aid  it,  hopes  of  honeft  men  ; 
Aid  it,  paper  ;  aid  it,  type  ; 
Aid  it,  for  the  hour  is  ripe  ; 
And  our  earneft  muft  not  flacken 

Into  play. 
Men  of  thought  and  men  of  a6fion, 

Clear  the  way  ! 

Lo  !  a  cloud 's  about  to  vanifh 

From  the  day  ; 
Lo  !  the  right 's  about  to  conquer,  — 

Clear  the  way  ! 
And  a  brazen  wrong  to  crumble 

Into  clay. 
With  that  right  fhall  many  more 
Enter  smiling  at  the  door  ; 
With  the  giant  wrong  fhall  fall 
Many  others,  great  and  small. 
That  for  ages  long  have  held  us 

For  their  prey. 
Men  of  thought  and  men  of  a6lion, 

Clear  the  way  ! 

Charles  Mack  ay. 


In  Time  of  War. 


25 


O ISRAEL,  to  thy  tents  repair : 
Why  thus  secure  on  hoftile  ground  ? 
Thy  King  commands "  thee  to  beware, 
For  many  foes  thy  camp  surround. 

The  trumpet  gives  a  martial  ftrain  : 
O  Israel,  gird  thee  for  the  fight ! 

Arise,  the  combat  to  maintain, 
And  put  thine  enemies  to  flight ! 

Thou  fhouldft  not  fleep  as  others  do  ; 

Awake  ;  be  vigilant ;  be  brave  ! 
The  coward  and  the  fluggard  too 

Must  wear  the  fetters  of  the  flave. 

A  nobler  lot  is  caft  for  thee  ; 

A  kingdom  waits  thee  in  the  fkies  : 
With  such  a  hope,  (hall  Israel  flee. 

Or  yield,  through  weariness,  the  prize  ? 

No  !  let  a  careless  world  repose 

And  flumber  on  through  life's  fhort  day. 

While  Israel  to  the  confli6l  goes. 
And  bears  the  glorious  prize  away  ! 

Thomas  Kelly,  1806. 


26 


In  Time  of  War. 


BE  STRONG,  FEAR  NOT. 

PRISONERS  of  hope  !  be  ftrong,  be  bold  ; 
Caft  off  your  doubts,  disdain  to  fear  ! 
The  day  which  prophets  have  foretold, 
And  saints  have  longed  for,  draweth  near  : 
Our  God  {hall  in  his  kingdom  come  ; 
Prepare  your  hearts  to  make  him  room  ! 

O  ye  of  fearful  hearts^  be  ftrong  ! 
Your  downcaft  eyes  and  hands  lift  up. 
Doubt  not,  nor  cry,  "  O  God,  how  long  ? " 
Hope  to  the  end,  in  patience  hope  ! 
O,  never  from  your  faith  remove  ; 
Ye  cannot  fail,  for  God  is  love  ! 

Lord,  we  have  faith  ;  we  wait  the  hour 
Which  to  the  earth  thy  kingdom  brings  ; 
When  thou,  in  love  and  joy  and  power, 
Shalt  come  and  make  us  priefts  and  kings  ; 
When  man  fhall  be  indeed  thy  son. 
And  thy  pure  will  on  earth  be  done. 


In  Time  of  War.  27 


A SOLDIER'S  course,  from  battles  won 
To  new-commencing  ftrife  ; 
A  pilgrim's,  reftless  as  the  sun  ; 
Behold  the  Chriftian's  Hfe  ! 

Prepared  the  trumpet's  call  to  greet, 

Soldier  of  Jesus,  ftand  ! 
Pilgrim  of  Chrift,  with  ready  feet 

Await  thy  Lord's  .command. 

The  hofts  of  Satan  pant  for  spoil  ; 

How  can  thy  warfare  close  ? 
Lonely,  thou  treadft  a  foreign  soil  ; 

How  canft  thou  hope  repose  ? 

Seek,  soldier!  pilgrim!  seek  thine  home. 

Revealed  in  sacred  lore  ; 
The  land  whence  pilgrims  never  roam, 

Where  soldiers  war  no  more  ;  — 

Where  grief  fhall  never  wound,  nor  death 

Difturb  the  Saviour's  reign  ; 
Nor  fin,  with  peftilential  breath. 

His  holy  realm  profane  ;  — 


28 


In  Time  of  War. 


Where  founts  of  life  their  treasures  yield 

In  ftreams  that  never  cease  ; 
Where  everlafting  mountains  fhield 

Vales  of  eternal  peace  : 

Where  they  who  meet  fhall  never  part ; 

Where  grace  achieves  its  plan  ; 
And  God,  uniting  every  heart, 

Dwells  face  to  face  with  man. 

Thomas  Gifborne.  1803. 


LUTHER'S  PRAYER. 


OUR  God,  our  Father,  with  us  ftay. 
And  make  us  keep  thy  narrow  way  ; 
Free  us  from  fin  and  all  its  power  ; 
Give  us  a  joyful  dying  hour  ; 
Deliver  us  from  Satan's  arts. 
And  let  us  build  our  hopes  on  thee, 
Down  in  our  very  heart  of  hearts  ! 
O  God,  may  we  true  servants  be. 
And  serve  thee  ever  perfectly. 
Help  us,  with  all  thy  children  here, 
To  fight  and  flee  with  holy  fear ; 


In  Time  of  War. 


Flee  from  temptation,  and  to  fight 
With  thine  own  weapons  for  the  right  ; 
Amen  !   Amen  !   so  let  it  be  ! 
So  ftiall  we  ever  fing  to  Thee, 

Hallelujah  ! 

1483- 1501 


CHRISTMAS. 


IT  came  upon  the  midnight  clear, 
That  glorious  song  of  old. 
From  angels  bending  near  the  earth 
To  touch  their  harps  of  gold,  — 
"  Peace  to  the  earth,  good-will  to  men. 

From  Heaven's  all-gracious  King": 
The  world  in  solemn  ftillness  lay, 
To  hear  the  angels  fing. 

Still  through  the  cloven  fkies  they  come. 

With  peaceful  wings  unfurled  ; 
And  fl:ill  their  heavenly  mufic  floats 

O'er  all  the  weary  world  : 
Above  its  sad  and  lowly  plains 

They  bend  on  heavenly  wing, 
And  ever  o'er  its  Babel  sounds 

The  blefl^ed  angels  fing. 


30 


In  Time  of  War. 


Yet  with  the  woes  of  fin  and  ftrife 

The  world  has  suffered  long  ; 
Beneath  the  angel-ftrain  have  rolled 

Two  thousand  years  of  wrong  ; 
And  men,  at  war  with  men,  hear  not 

The  love-song  which  they  bring  : 
O,  hufh  the  noise,  ye  men  of  ftrife, 

And  hear  the  angels  fing  ! 

And  ye,  beneath  life's  crufhing  load, 

Whose  forms  are  bending  low. 
Who  toil  along  the  climbing  way 

With  painful  fteps  and  flow  ; 
Look  now  !  for  glad  and  golden  hours 

Come  swiftly  on  the  wing  : 
O,  reft  befide  the  weary  road. 

And  hear  the  angels  fing  ! 

For  lo  !  the  days  are  haftening  on. 

By  prophet  bards  foretold. 
When  with  the  ever-circling  years 

Comes  round  the  age  of  gold  ; 
When  Peace  ftiall  over  all  the  earth 

Its  ancient  splendors  fling. 
And  the  whole  world  send  back  the  song 

Which  now  the  angels  fing. 

Rev.  E.  H.  Sears. 


In  Time  of  War. 


THE  WORD. 

IN  the  beginning  was  the  Word  : 
Athwart  the  chaos-night 
It  gleamed  with  quick  creative  power, 
And  there  was  life  and  light. 

Thy  Word,  O  God  !  is  living  yet. 

Amid  earth's  reftless  ftrife, 
New  harmony  creating  ftill, 

And  ever  higher  life. 

And  as  that  Word  moves  surely  on, 

The  light,  ray  after  ray, 
Streams  farther  out  athwart  the  dark. 

And  night  grows  into  day. 

O  Word  that  broke  the  ftillness  firft, 
Sound  on  !  and  never  cease. 

Till  all  Earth's  darkness  be  made  light; 
And  all  her  discord  peace  ! 

Till  —  wail  of  woe  and  clank  of  chain 
And  bruit  of  battle  ftilled  — 

The  world  with  thy  great  mufic's  pulse, 
O  Word  of  Love  !   be  thrilled  ;  — 


32  In  Time  of  War. 


Till  selfifli  paflion,  ftrife,  and  wrong 
Thy  summons  fhall  have  heard, 

And  thy  creation  be  complete, 
O  Thou  Eternal  Word  ! 

Rev.  S.  Longfellow. 


PEACE  ON  EARTH. 


OFOR  the  coming  of  the  end, 
The  laft  long  Sabbath  day  of  time. 
When  peace  from  heaven  fhall  descend, 
Like  light  on  every  clime. 

For  men  in  fhips  far  off  at  sea 
Shall  hear  the  happy  nations  raise 

The  song  of  peace  and  liberty. 
And  overflovi^ing  praise. 

Mankind  (hall  be  one  brotherhood  ; 

One  human  soul  fhall  fill  the  earth, 
And  God  fliall  say,     The  world  is  good 

As  when  I  gave  it  birth." 


In  Time  of  War. 


33 


CHRIST 

THE   WAY,   THE   TRUTH,    AND   THE  LIFE. 

OTHOU  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men, 
Who  once  appeared  in  humbleft  guise  below, 
Sin  to  rebuke,  to  break  the  captive's  chain, 

And  call  thy  brethren  forth  from  want  and  woe,  — 

We  look  to  thee  !  thy  truth  is  ftill  the  Light 
Which  guides  the  nations,  groping  on  their  way. 

Stumbling  and  falling  in  disaftrous  night. 
Yet  hoping  ever  for  the  perfed:  day. 

Yes  ;  thou  art  ftill  the  Life,  thou  art  the  Way 

The  holieft  know  ;  Light,  Life,  the  Way  of  heaven  ! 

And  they  who  deareft  hope  and  deepeft  pray 

Toil  by  the  Light,  Life,  Way,  which  thou  haft  given. 

Kev,  Theodore  Parker, 


THE  POWER  OF  JESUS. 

STRONG-SOULED  Reformer,  whose  far-seeing  faith 
Of  lifted  cry  and  tumult  had  no  need,  — 


34 


In  Time  of  War. 


Who  ftayedft  the  lightnings  of  thy  holy  wrath 
With  pitying  love,  to  spare  the  bruised  reed,  — 
Thy  will  to  save,  thy  ftrength  to  conquer,  flowed 
From  seas  of  tenderness  and  might  in  God. 

Thy  living  word  sprang  from  the  heart  of  man 

Eternal  word  of  love  and  liberty  : 

Fearless  thou  gav'ft  it  to  the  winds  again  ; 

'T  was  Manhood's  native  tongue,  and  could  not  die. 

To  thy  dear  brotherhood  life's  pulses  leap  ; 

And  wakening  ages  answer,  deep  to  deep. 

Rev.  S.  'Johnson. 


AFFLICTION. 


BLESSED  ARE  THEY  THAT  MOURN. 

FROM  lips  divine,  like  healing  balm 
To  hearts  opprefled  and  torn, 
The  heavenly  consolation  fell, 
"  BlelTed  are  they  that  mourn." 

Unto  the  hopes  by  sorrow  cruftied 

A  noble  faith  succeeds  ; 
And  life,  by  trials  furrowed,  bears 

The  fruit  of  loving  deeds. 

How  rich,  how  sweet,  how  full  of  ftrength. 

Our  human  spirits  are. 
Baptized  into  the  san(S^:ities 

Of  suffering  and  of  prayer  ! 

Yes,  heavenly  wisdom,  love  divine. 
Breathed  through  the  lips  which  said, 

"  O  bleffed  are  the  hearts  that  mourn  ; 
They  ftiall  be  comforted." 


36 


Affllaion. 


THE  GUIDING  HAND. 
"  Caft  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord."  —  Psalm  Iv.  az. 

IS  this  the  way,  my  Father  t     'T  is,  my  child. 
Thou  muft  pass  through  this  tangled,  dreary  wild, 
If  thou  wouldft  reach  the  city,  undeftled. 

Thy  peaceful  home  above. 

But  enemies  are  round  !    Yes,  child,  I  know 
That  where  thou  leaft  expe6left  thou  'It  find  a  foe  ; 
But  victor  thou  (halt  prove  o'er  all  below. 

Only  seek  ftrength  above. 

My  Father,  it  is  dark  !     Child,  take  my  hand. 
Cling  close  to  me  ;   I  '11  lead  thee  through  the  land  ; 
Truft  my  all-seeing  care  ;   so  fhalt  thou  ftand 

'Midft  glory  bright  above. 

My  footfteps  seem  to  Aide  !  Child,  only  raise 
Thine  eye  to  me,  then  in  these  flippery  ways 
I  will  hold  up  thy  goings  ;  thou  flialt  praise 

Me  for  each  ftep  above. 

O  Father,  I  am  weary  !  Child,  lean  thy  head 
Upon  my  breaft.  It  was  my  love  that  spread 
Thy  rugged  path  ;   hope  on,  till  I  have  said, 

"Reft,  reft  for  aye,  above." 


AfflMon. 

37 

• 

A  FIRST  SORROW. 

A  RISE  !  this  day  fhall  fhine, 
±\.  P'orevermore, 
TTo  thee  a  ftar  divine, 

On  Time's  dark  fhore. 

Till  now  thy  soul  has  been 
All  glad  and  gay  : 

r?in   It  jiwukp    Jinn  Innlf 

At  grief  to-day  ! 

No  fhade  has  come  between 
Thee  and  the  sun  \ 

IjIkP   snmp   Inner   pViilni'Tn  rlrp^im 

Thy  life  has  run  : 

But  now  the  ftream  has  reached 

A  dark,  deep  sea, 
And  Sorrow,  dim  and  crowned, 

Is  waiting  thee. 

Each  of  God's  soldiers  bears 

A  sword  divine  : 
Stretch  out  thy  trembling  hands 

To-day  for  thine  ! 

38 


Affilaion. 


To  each  anointed  Priert 

God's  summons  came  : 
O  soul,  He  speaks  to-day, 

And  calls  thy  name. 

Then,  with  flow,  reverent  ftep, 

And  beating  heart, 
From  out  thy  joyous  days 

Thou  muft  depart. 

And,  leaving  all  behind, 

Come  forth  alone. 
To  join  the  chosen  band 

Around  the  throne. 

Raise  up  thine  eyes,  —  be  ftrong. 

Nor  caft  away 
The  crown  that  God  has  given 

Thy  soul  to-day  ! 

Miss  A.  A.  Proper, 


"ONLY  A  YEAR." 

ONE  year  ago,  —  a  ringing  voice, 
A  clear  blue  eye. 
And  cluftering  curls  of  sunny  hair. 
Too  fair  to  die. 




Affliaion. 


39 


Only  a  year,  —  no  voice,  no  smile, 

No  glance  of  eye, 
No  cluftering  curls  of  golden  hair, 

Fair  but  to  die  ! 

One  year  ago,  —  what  loves,  what  schemes 

Far  into  life  ! 
What  joyous  hopes,  what  high  resolves. 

What  generous  ftrife  ! 

The  filent  picture  on  the  wall. 

The  burial  ftone. 
Of  all  that  beauty,  life,  and  joy. 

Remain  alone  ! 

One  year,  —  one  year,  —  one  little  year, — 

And  so  much  gone  ! 
And  yet  the  even  flow  of  life 

Moves  calmly  on. 

The  grave  grows  green,  the  flowers  bloom  fair. 

Above  that  head  ; 
No  sorrowing  tint  of  leaf  or  spray 

Says  he  is  dead. 

No  pause  or  hufli  of  merry  birds 

That  fing  above 
Tells  us  how  coldly  fleeps  below 

The  form  we  love. 


40 


Affliaion. 


Where  haft  thou  been  this  year,  beloved  ? 

What  haft  thou  seen  ? 
What  vifions  fair,  what  glorious  life. 

Where  thou  haft  been  ? 

The  veil !  the  veil  !  so  thin,  so  ftrong  ! 

'Twixt  us  and  thee  ; 
The  myftic  veil  !   when  ftiall  it  fall, 

That  we  may  see  ? 

Not  dead,  not  fleeping,  not  even  gone  ; 

But  present  ftill. 
And  waiting  for  the  coming  hour 

Of  God's  sweet  will. 

Lord  of  the  living  and  the  dead. 

Our  Saviour  dear  ! 
We  lay  in  filence  at  thy  feet 

This  sad,  sad  year  ! 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe. 


DISCIPLINE. 

GOD  moves  in  a  myfterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform  ; 
He  plants  his  footfteps  in  the  sea. 
And  rides  upon  the  ftorm. 


r 


Affliaion. 


41 


Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 

Of  never-failing  fkill 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  defigns, 

And  works  his  sovereign  will. 

Ye  fearful  saints,  frefh  courage  take  ; 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  fhall  break 

In  bleffings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense, 
But  truft  him  for  his  grace  ; 

Behind  a  frowning  Providence 
He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

His  purposes  will  ripen  faft, 

Unfolding  every  hour  ; 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  tafte, 

But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 

Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err, 

And  scan  his  work  in  vain  ; 

God  is  his  own  interpreter, 

And  he  will  make  it  plain. 

William  Cowper.  1779. 


42 

Afflithon. 

BE  STILL! 

pEACE!    Be  ftiU  ! 

JL     In  this  night  of  sorrow  bow, 
O  my  heart,  contend  not  thou  ! 
What  befalls  thee  is  God's  will, — 
Peace!    Be  ftill ! 

Peace!    Be  ftill ! 

All  thy  murmuring  words  are  vain, — 
God  will  make  the  riddle  plain  : 
Wait  his  word,  and  bear  his  will,  — 
Peace!    Be  ftill! 

Hold  thee  ftill ! 

Though  the  Father  scourge  thee  sore. 
Cling  thou  to  him  all  the  more. 
Let  him  mercy's  work  fulfil ! 
Hold  thee  ftill! 

Hold  thee  ftill! 

Though  the  good  Phyfician's  knife 
Seem  to  touch  thy  very  life. 

Hold  thee  ftill  ! 

Affliaion. 


43 


Lord,  my  God  ! 
Give  nie  grace,  that  I  may  be 
Thy  true  child,  and  filently 
Own  thy  sceptre  and  thy  rod. 
Lord,  my  God  ! 

Shepherd  mine  ! 
From  thy  fulness  give  me  ftill 
Faith  to  do  and  bear  Thy  will. 
Till  the  morning  light  (hall  fhine,  — 
Shepherd  mine  ! 

From  the  German. 


HOLY  TEARS. 

YES,  thou  mayft  weep,  for  Jesus  ftied 
Such  tears  as  those  thou  (heddeft  now. 
When  for  the  living  or  the  dead 
Sorrow  lay  heavy  on  his  brow. 

He  sees  thee  weep,  yet  doth  not  blame 
The  weakness  of  thy  flefh  and  heart ; 

Thy  human  nature  is  the  same 
As  that  in  which  he  took  a  part. 

He  knows  its  weakness,  for  he  felt 
The  cruftiing  power  of  pain  and  woe. 


44 


Affli^ion. 


How  body,  soul,  and  spirit  melt, 

And  faint  beneath  the  ftunning  blow. 

What  if  poor  finners  count  thy  grief 
The  fign  of  an  unchaltened  will  ? 

He  who  can  give  thy  soul  relief 

Knows  that  thou  art  submiffive  ftill. 

Turn  thee  to  Him,  to  Him  alone ; 

For  all  that  our  poor  lips  can  say 
To  soothe  thee,  broken-hearted  one. 

Would  fail  to  comfort  thee  to-day. 

We  will  not  speak  to  thee,  but  fit 
In  prayerful  filence  by  thy  fide  : 

Grief  has  its  ebbs  and  flows  ;  't  is  fit 
Our  love  (hould  wait  the  ebbing  tide. 

Jesus  himself  will  comfort  thee. 

In  his  own  time,  in  his  own  way  ; 

And  haply  more  than     two  or  three  " 
Unite  in  prayer  for  thee  to-day. 


Afflia'ion,  45 


ALL,  ALL  IS  KNOWN  TO  THEE. 

"  When  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed  within  me,  then  thou  kneweft  my 
path." — Psalm  cxlii.  3. 

MY  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I  may  claim, 
Calling  thee  feather,  sweet,  endearing  name  ! 
The  sufferings  of  this  weak  and  weary  frame, 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

From  human  eye  't  is  better  to  conceal 
Much  that  I  suffer,  much  I  hourly  feel  ; 
But  oh  !  the  thought  does  tranquillize  and  heal,  — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Each  secret  conflict  with  indwelling  sin. 

Each  fickening  fear  I  ne'er  the  prize  (hall  win. 

Each  pang  from  irritation,  turmoil,  din,  — 

All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

Nay,  all  by  Thee  is  ordered,  chosen,  planned,  — 
.  Each  drop  that  fills  my  daily  cup  ;  thy  hand 
Prescribes  for  ills  none  else  can  underftand. 

All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 


46  Ajfliaion, 

Nor  will  the  bitter  draught  diftafteful  prove, 
When  I  recall  the  Son  of  thy  dear  love  ; 
The  cup  thou  wouldft  not  for  our  sakes  remove, 
That  cup  he  drank  for  me. 

And  welcome,  precious  can  his  Spirit  make 
My  little  drop  of  suffering  for  his  sake. 
Father,  the  cup  I  drink,  the  path  I  take, — 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

Adelaide  L,  Newton. 


THE  ETERNAL  YEARS. 

"  While  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at  the  things  which 
are  not  seen  :  for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal  j  but  the  things 
which  are  not  seen  are  eternal."  —  2  Cor.  iv.  18 

HOW  ftialt  thou  bear  the  cross  that  now 
So  dread  a  weight  appears  } 
Keep  quietly  to  God,  and  think 
Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Aufterity  is  little  help. 

Although  it  somewhat  cheers  ; 
Thine  oil  of  gladness  is  the  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 


Affliaion. 


47 


Set  hours  and  written  rule  are  good. 
Long  prayer  can  lay  our  fears  ; 

But  it  is  better  calm  for  thee 
To  count  the  Eternal  Years. 

Oh  !  many  things  are  good  for  souls, 
In  proper  times  and  spheres  ; 

Thy  present  good  is  in  the  thought 
Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Thy  self-upbraiding  is  a  snare. 
Though  meekness  it  appears  ; 

More  humbling  is  it  far  for  thee 
To  face  the  Eternal  Years. 

Brave  quiet  is  the  thing  for  thee. 
Chiding  thy  scrupulous  fears  ; 

Learn  to  be  real  from  the  thought 
Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Bear  gently,  suffer  like  a  child, 

Nor  be  afhamed  of  tears  ; 
Kiss  the  sweet  Cross,  and  in  thy  heart 

Sing  of  the  Eternal  Years. 

Thy  Cross  is  quite  enough  for  thee. 

Though  little  it  appears  ; 
For  there  is  hid  in  it  the  weight 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 


Affliaion. 


And  knovvft  thou  not  how  bitterness 

An  ailing  spirit  cheers  ? 
Thy  medicine  is  the  ftrengthening  thought 

Of  the  Eternal  Years. 

One  Cross  can  sanctify  a  soul ; 

Late  saints  and  ancient  seers 
Were  what  they  were  because  they  mused 

Upon  the  Eternal  Years. 

Death  will  have  rainbows  round  it  seen 
Through  calm  contrition's  tears, 

If  tranquil  Hope  but  trims  her  lamp 
At  the  Eternal  Years. 

Frederick  Faher. 


"WHAT  ARE  THESE  IN  BRIGHT  ARRAY?" 

W^HAT  are  these  in  bright  array? 
This  innumerable  throng, 
Round  the  altar,  night  and  day. 
Hymning  one  triumphant  song  : 
Worthy  is  the  Lamb  once  flain, 
BlelTing,  honor,  glory,  power, 
Wisdom,  riches,  to  obtain. 
New  dominion  every  hour." 


Affliaion, 


49 


These  through  fiery  trials  trod  ; 

These  from  great  afflidlion  came  ; 
Now  before  the  throne  of  God, 

Sealed  with  his  almighty  name, 
Clad  in  raiment  pure  and  white, 

Vi6tor-palms  in  every  hand. 
Through  their  dear  Redeemer's  might. 

More  than  conquerors  they  ftand. 

Hunger,  thirft,  disease  unknown. 

On  immortal  fruits  they  feed  ; 
Them  the  Lamb,  amidft  the  throne. 

Shall  to  living  fountains  lead  : 
Joy  and  gladness  banifh  fighs, 

Perfe6l  love  dispels  all  fear. 
And  forever  from  their  eyes 

God  fhall  wipe  away  the  tear. 

'James  Montgomery,     1803— 1853. 


Take  away  the  dross  from  the  filver,  and  there  fhall  come  forth  a  veflel 
for  the  finer."  —  Prov.  xxv.  4. 

SICKNESS  is  a  school  severe, 
Where  the  soul,  (in  childhood  here,) 
Wayward,  'neath  a  milder  sway. 
Learns  to  think,  and  learns  to  pray. 


50 


Affliaion. 


Bleft  and  wise  its  discipline, 
There  the  teacher  is  divine. 

Wert  thou  thoughtless,  led  away 

Bv  each  folly  of  the  day  ? 

Cleaving  to  the  things  of  earth. 

Mindless  of  thy  heavenly  birth  ? 

Bless  the  hours  which  broke  their  spell, 

Made  thee  fick  to  make  thee  well. 

Wert  thou  selfifli,  thinking  not 
On  the  ftarving  sufferer's  lot  ? 
Fed  with  dainties,  gavly  drelled, 
Wert  thou  by  the  poor  unblelfed  ? 
Now  for  sufferers  thou  wilt  feel, 
God  has  wounded  but  to  heal. 

Wert  thou  fretful,  harfli,  unkind. 
Finding  nothing  to  thy  mind  ? 
Though  with  countless  mercies  bleft, 
Never  thankful,  ne'er  at  reft  ? 
Sickness  comes  to  purge  thy  dross, 
Prove  thy  gain,  and  not  thy  loss. 

Wert  thou  proud,  exalted  high 
By  affluence,  ftation,  anceftry  ? 
Oft  with  supercilious  ken 
Glancing  at  thy  fellow-men  ? 
God  now  ftrips  thee,,  lays  thee  low. 
All  thy  nothingness  to  lliow. 


Affliaion. 


51 


Dwelt  thy  soul  at  ease,  affured 
All  was  well,  and  heaven  secured  ? 
Didft  thou  need  no  better  dress 
Than  thy  fancied  righteousness  ? 
Sickness  comes  to  probe  thy  heart, 
Comes  to  fhow  thee  what  thou  art. 

Is  the  one  thing  needed  moft 
That  which  scarce  thy  mind  has  crofled  ? 
Haft  thou  earthly  science  prized, 
But  the  themes  of  heaven  despised  ? 
God  now  warns  thee,  thus  he  saith  : 
Soul,  awake,  thy  lleep  is  death  !  " 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


BEREAVEMENT. 

FLOW  on,  thou  Fountain  of  my  joy, 
Through  all  the  wilderness  ! 
Thou  seeft  what  will  work  for  good, 

Thou  knoweft  how  to  bless. 
Get  thyself  glory,  O  my  God, 
Be  praised  in  my  diftress  ! 

O,  let  Thy  true,  refining  love 
Its  utmoft  pleasure  see  ; 


52 


Afflitiiou. 


And  litt  not  up  Thv  faithful  hand 

\Vhate'er  mv  cry  may  be, 
Till  I  am  llrong  for  Thy  renown, 

And  pure  for  use  to  Thee. 

I  know  Thine  eve  has  weighed  the  path 
To  Thv  loll  creature's  bliss. 

No  comfort  could  supplv  the  need 
Of  grief  so  sore  as  this  ; 

No  jov  could  wake  mv  heart  so  well 
To  Thv  full  preciousness. 

Thou  wait  the  Source  of  all  that  lo\'e 
Which  makes  me  glad  no  more,  — 

And  Thou  halt  taken  to  Thvself 
What  was  Thine  own  before. 

Thine,  and  mine  too,  O  Good  to  2;i\'e, 
O  Faithful  to  reilore. 

That  lo\ing  spirit  is  withdrawn 

From  everv  lliade  of  fin  ; 
And  I  in  svmpathv  with  her 

A  holier  life  begin. 
Yes  !  to  her  new  delight  in  Thee, 

I,  Lord,  can  enter  in. 

She  with  Thee,  wheresoe'er  Thou  art, 

In  fellowlhip  untold  ! 
She  in  Thee,  li\ ing  bv  mv  Bread, 

AIv  Hope,  my  heart's  ftronghold  ! 


AfflMon.  53 

Oh  !  't  is  a  song  for  days  of  grief, 
Whate'er  their  depths  unfold. 

As  one  whose  mother  comforts  him, 

I  will  lift  up  my  head. 
No  wound  of  Thine  fhall  take  the  life 

From  words  which  Thou  haft  said. 
And  in  the  fulness  of  Thy  truth 

I  fhall  be  comforted. 

Miss  A,  L.  Waring, 


"GOD  DOTH  NOT  LEAVE  HIS  OWN." 

GOD  doth  not  leave  his  own  ! 
The  night  of  weeping  for  a  time  may  laft  \ 
Then,  tears  all  paft, 
His  going  forth  fhall  as  the  morning  (hine  ; 
The  sunrise  of  his  favor  fhall  be  thine,  — 
God  doth  not  leave  his  own. 

God  doth  not  leave  his  own  ! 
Though  "  few  and  evil  "  all  their  days  appear. 

Though  grief  and  fear 
Come  in  the  train  of  earth  and  hell's  dark  crowd. 
The  trufting  heart  says,  even  in  the  cloud, 

God  doth  not  leave  his  own. 


54  Affliaion. 


God  doth  not  leave  his  own  ! 
This  sorrow  in  their  life  he  doth  permit, 

Yea,  iiseth  it 
To  speed  his  children  on  their  hea\enward  way,  — 
He  guides  the  winds.  —  P^aith,  Hope  and  Lo\  e  all  sav 

God  doth  not  leave  his  own. 


FAITH. 


WE  will  not  weep  ;  for  God  is  Handing  bv  us, 
And  tears  will  blind  us  to  the  blelled  fight  ; 
We  will  not  doubt,  if  darkness  llill  doth  trv  us, 
Our  souls  have  promise  of  serenell  light. 

We  will  not  faint,  —  if  hea\  v  burdens  bind  us, 
Thev  press  no  harder  than  our  souls  can  bear. 

The  thornieft  wav  is  King  ftill  behind  us, 
^Ve  lhall  be  bra\-er  for  the  pall:  despair. 


O,  not  in  doubt  fhall  be  our  journev's  ending  ; 

Sin  with  its  fears  fhall  leave  us  at  the  lall,  — 
All  its  bell  hopes  in  glad  fulfilment  blending. 

Life  lhall  be  with  us  when  the  Death  is  pall. 

Help  us,  O  Father  !  when  the  world  is  preffing 

On  our  frail  hearts,  that  faint  without  their  friend, — 


AffiMon. 


Help  us,  O  Father  !  let  thy  conftant  bleffing 
Strengthen  our  weakness  —  till  the  joyful  end. 

IV,  H.  Hurlburt. 


55 


WHY  SEEK  YE  THE  LIVING  AMONG  THE  DEAD? 

AH  !  why  (hould  bitter  tears  be  fhed 
In  sorrow  o'er  the  mounded  sod, 
When  verily  there  are  no  dead 
Of  all  the  children  of  our  God  ? 

They  who  are  loll:  to  outward  sense 
Have  but  flung  off  their  robes  of  clav, 

And,  clothed  in  heavenly  radiance, 
Attend  us  on  our  lowly  way. 

And  oft  their  spirits  breathe  in  ours 

The  hope  and  ftrength  and  love  of  theirs, 

Which  bloom  as  bloom  the  early  flowers 
In  breath  of  summer's  viewless  airs. 

And  filent  aspirations  ftart, 

In  promptings  of  their  purer  thought. 
Which  gently  lead  the  troubled  heart 

To  jovs  not  even  Hope  had  wrought. 


Affllaion, 


While  sorrow's  tears  our  eves  have  wet, 

Shed  o'er  the  consecrated  dull, 
Too  much  our  darkened  souls  forget 

The  lellbns  of  enduring  l^ulh 

Let  li\ing  Faith  serenelv  pour 

Her  sunlight  on  our  pathwav  dim, 

And  Death  can  have  no  terrors  more  ; 
But  holv  Jov  lhall  walk  with  him. 

G.  S.  BurWigh. 


THERE  is  a  land  where  beaut v  cannot  fade. 
Nor  sorrow  dim  the  eve  ; 
Where  true  love  lhall  not  droop  nor  be  dismayed,  1 
And  none  lhall  ever  die  ! 
Where  is  that  land,  O  where  ? 
For  I  would  ha  lien  there  ! 
l^ell  me,  I  fain  would  go. 
For  I  am  wearied  with  a  hea\  v  woe  ! 
The  beautiful  ha\  e  left  me  all  alone  : 
The  true,  the  tender,  from  \\\\  path  arc  gone  ! 
O,  guide  me  with  th\-  hand. 
If  thou  doll  know  the  land. 
For  I  am  burthened  with  opprellhe  care, 
And  I  am  weak  and  fearful  with  despair! 


AffliSiion, 


57 


Where  is  it  ?  tell  me  where  ? 
Thou  that  art  kind  and  gentle,  tell  me  where  ? 

Friend,  thou  muft  truft  in  him  who  trod  before 

The  desolate  paths  of  life  ; 
Muft  bear  in  meekness,  as  he  meekly  bore. 

Sorrow,  and  pain,  and  ftrife  ! 

Think  how  the  Son  of  God 

These  thorny  paths  hath  trod  ; 

Think  how  he  longed  to  go. 
Yet  tarried  out  for  thee  the  appointed  woe  : 
Think  of  his  weariness  in  places  dim. 
When  no  man  comforted  nor  cared  for  him  ! 

Think  of  the  blood-like  sweat 

With  which  his  brow  was  wet. 
Yet  how  he  prayed,  unaided  and  alone. 
In  that  great  agony,  "  Thy  will  be  done  ! " 

Friend,  do  not  thou  despair, 
Chrift  from  his  heaven  of  heavens  will  hear  thy  prayer  ! 

From  the  German  of  Uhland.  1804. 


THE  INVITATIONS  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

COME  !  said  Jesus'  sacred  voice. 
Come,  and  make  my  paths  your  choice, 
I  will  guide  you  to  your  home  ; 
Weary  pilgrim,  hither  come  ! 


58 


Thou,  who,  houseless,  sole,  forlorn. 
Long  haft  borne  the  proud  world's  scorn. 
Long  haft  roamed  the  barren  wnile, 
Weapk-  pilgrim,  hither  hafte ! 

Ye,  who,  tolled  on  beds  of  pain. 
Seek  for  ease,  but  seek  in  vain  ; 
e,  whose  swollen  and  fleepless  e\  es 
.uch  to  see  the  morninsj  rise  ; 

Ye,  by  fiercer  anguifli  torn. 
In  remorse  for  guilt  who  mourn ; 
Here  repose  your  heavy  care ! 
Conscience  wounded  who  can  bear? 

Sinner,  come !  for  here  is  found 
Balm  that  flows  for  every  wound  ; 
Peace  that  ever  fliall  endure  ; 
Reft  eternal,  sacred,  sure. 

J/r.f.  BarhauLi.     i  S  2  ; . 


•THAT  Vt  THROUGH  HIS  POVERTY  .VOGHT  BE  RICH. 

O'ER  the  dark  wave  of  Galilee 
The  gloom  of  twilight  gathers  taft. 
And  on  the  waters  drearily 

Descends  the  fitful  evening  blaft. 


Affllalon. 


The  weary  bird  hath  left  the  air, 
And  sunk  into  his  (heltered  neH  ; 

The  wandering  beaft  has  sought  his  lair, 
And  laid  him  down  to  welcome  reft. 

Still  near  the  lake,  with  weary  tread. 
Lingers  a  form  of  human  kind  ; 

And  on  his  lone,  unftieltered  head 

Flows  the  chill  night-damp  of  the  wind. 

Why  seeks  He  not  a  home  of  reft  ? 

Why  seeks  He  not  a  pillowed  bed  ? 
Beafts  have  their  dens,  the  bird  its  neft  ; 

He  hath  not  where  to  lay  his  head. 

Such  was  the  lot  He  freely  chose. 
To  bless,  to  save,  the  human  race  ; 

And  through  His  poverty  there  flows 
A  rich,  full  ftream  of  heavenly  grace. 

Rujfell 


CHRIST  OUR  EXAMPLE  IN  SUFFERING. 

C"^  O  to  dark  Gethsemane, 
T    Ye  that  feel  temptation's  power  ; 
Your  Redeemer's  conflidt  see  ; 

Watch  with  him  one  bitter  hour : 


Afflitlion. 


Turn  not  from  his  griefs  away  ; 
Learn  of  Jesus  Chrift  to  pray. 

Follow  to  the  judgment-hall  \ 

View  the  Lord  of  life  arraigned  : 
O  the  wormwood  and  the  gall  ! 

O  the  pangs  his  soul  suftained  ! 
Shun  not  suffering,  fhame,  or  loss  ; 
Learn  of  him  to  bear  the  cross. 

Calvary's  mournful  mountain  climb  ; 

There,  admiring  at  his  feet, 
Mark  that  miracle  of  time, 

God's  own  sacrifice  complete : 
"  It  is  finifhed,"  hear  him  cry  ; 
Learn  of  Jesus  Chrifl  to  die. 

Early  haffen  to  the  tomb 

Where  they  laid  his  breathless  clay  ; 
All  is  solitude  and  gloom  : 

Who  has  taken  him  away  ? 
Chrift  is  risen  ;  he  meets  our  eyes  : 
Saviour,  teach  us  so  to  rise ! 

J,  Montgomery,  1803-1853. 


AfflMon. 


6i 


FELLOWSHIP  IN  SUFFERING. 

"  That  I  may  know  Him,  and  tne  power  of  His  resurreftion,  and  the  fellow- 
Ihip  of  His  sufferings."  —  Philippians  iii.  lo. 

HUMBLY  while  my  soul  doth  prove 
Sweeteft  joys  of  pardoning  love, 
Still,  mv  Saviour,  doth  it  yearn 
Love's  deep  myftery  to  learn, 
In  the  fhadow  of  Thy  cross 
Counting  earthly  gain  but  loss. 
Breathing  ftill  its  fervent  plea 
For  a  closer  life  with  Thee, 
By  that  high  and  holy  thing, 
Fellowfhip  in  suffering. 

O  my  Lord,  the  Crucified  ! 
Who  for  love  of  me  haft  died, 
Mould  me  by  Thy  living  breath 
To  the  likeness  of  Thy  death  ; 
While  the  thorns  Thy  brows  entwine, 
Let  no  flower-wreath  reft  on  mine. 
In  Thy  hands  the  cruel  nail, 
Blood-sweat  on  Thy  forehead  pale  ; 
Clasp  me  to  Thy  wounded  side, 
O  my  Lord    the  Crucified  ! 


62 


Afflia'ion. 


Hands,  love-clasped  through  charmed  hours. 

Feet  that  press  the  bruised  flowers, 

Is  there  aught  for  vou  to  dare 

That  ye  may  His  fignet  bear  ? 

In  this  easv,  painless  life, 

Free  from  ftruggle,  care,  and  Itrife, 

E\er  on  mv  doubting  breall 

Lies  the  fliadovv  of  unreft ; 

This  no  path  that  Jesus  trod  ; 

Can  the  smooth  way  lead  to  God  ? 

But  when  chaltening  Ih'ipes  descend. 
Welcoming  as  friend  doth  friend, 
Thy  dear  tokens,  Lord,  I  know. 
And  to  Thee  unerring  go  j 
Blelled  tears  flow  warm  and  free. 
Thou  doll  love  me,  —  even  me. 
Pomp  and  ease,  and  praise  of  men, 
All  are  loathed  and  scorned  then, 
Since  mv  Lord,  my  Love,  hath  died. 
Mocked  and  scourged  and  crucified. 

By  the  agonv  and  pain 

Of  the  torture-ftricken  brain, 

Bv  the  riches  of  Thv  love. 

Let  not  suffering  barren  prove  ; 

Pledge  and  emblem  't  would  remain 

Of  the  dark  and  sullen  pain. 


Affli£lion, 


Where  nor  love  nor  good  doth  Hve, 
And  the  blefled  word  ''forgive" 
Comes  not  with  its  subtle  art, 
Softening,  healing,  any  heart. 

In  the  little  islet  Time 

Of  Eternity  sublime. 

Standing  on  the  doping  brink. 

Let  me  of  Thy  chalice  drink. 

Be  baptized  with  Thy  baptism, 

And  be  crowned  with  Thy  love-chrism; 

Slain  with  Thee  in  darkeft  hour, 

Feel  Thy  resurre6lion  power. 

Till  where  Thou  art  I  may  be. 

Perfected,  dear  Lord,  with  Thee  ! 

Chrijiian  Mirror. 


DEEM  not  that  they  are  bleft  alone 
Whose  days  a  peaceful  tenor  keep  ; 
The  God  who  loves  our  race  has  fhown 
A  blefling  for  the  eyes  that  weep. 

The  light  of  smiles  (hall  fill  again 
The  lids  that  overflow  with  tears, 

And  weary  hours  of  woe  and  pain 
Are  earnefts  of  serener  years. 


64 


Ajfliaion. 


O,  there  are  davs  of  hope  and  rell: 
For  ever\-  dark  and  troubled  night ! 

And  griet  mav  bide,  an  evening  gueft, 
But  jov  lhall  come  with  earlv  Hght. 

And  thou  who  o'er  thy  friend's  low  bier 
Doll  filed  the  bitter  drops  like  raifi, 

Hope  that  a  brighter,  happier  sphere 
Will  gi\e  him  to  thv  arms  again. 

Nor  let  the  good  man's  trulf  depart. 
Though  life  its  common  gifts  denv  ; 

Though  with  a  pierced  and  broken  heart, 
And  spurned  of  men,  he  goes  to  die. 

For  God  hath  marked  each  anguillied  da\', 
And  numbered  e\'erv  secret  tear  ; 

And  hea\  en's  long  age  of  bliss  lliall  pay 
For  all  His  children  suffer  here. 

Jl'm.   C.  Br s ant. 


FATHER,  when  o'er  our  trembling  hearts 
Doubt's  fliadows  gathering  brood. 
When  faith  in  Thee  almolt  departs, 
And  gloomiell:  fears  intrude, 


Affliaion. 


65 


Forsake  us  not,  O  God  of  grace, 

But  send  those  fear^  relief ; 
Grant  us  again  to  see  Thy  face  ; 

Lord,  help  our  unbehef. 

When  sorrow  comes,  and  joys  are  flown. 

And  fondeft  hopes  lie  dead, 
And  blellings,  long  efteemed  our  own, 

Are  now  forever  fled,  — 
When  the  bright  promise  of  our  spring 

Is  but  a  withered  leaf,  — 
Lord,  to  thy  truths  ftill  let  us  cling  ; 

Help  Thou  our  unbelief. 

And  when  the  powers  of  nature  fail 

Upon  the  couch  of  pain. 
Nor  love  nor  friendfhip  can  avail 

The  spirit  to  detain, 
Then,  Father,  be  our  clofing  eyes 

Undimmed  by  tears  of  grief ; 
And  if  a  trembling  doubt  arise, 

Help  Thou  our  unbelief. 

Rev,  S.  G.  Bulfinch. 


5 


66 


THE  REQUEST. 

OTHOU  who  didft  deny  to  me 
This  world's  adored  felicity, 
And  every  big,  imperious  luft. 
Which  fools  admire  in  finful  duft 
With  those  fine  subtle  twifts  that  tie 
Their  bundles  of  foul  gallantry,  — 
Keep  ftill  my  weak  eyes  from  the  fliine 
Of  those  gay  things  which  are  not  Thine  ! 
And  fliut  my  ears  againlt  the  noise 
Of  wicked,  though  applauded,  joys  ! 
For  Thou  in  any  land  haft  ftore 
Of  (hades  and  coverts  for  Thy  poor  ; 
Where  from  the  busy  duft  and  heat. 
As  well  as  ftorms,  they  may  retreat. 
A  rock  or  bufti  are  downy  beds. 
When  Thou  art  there,  crowning  their  heads 
With  secret  bleftings,  or  a  tire 
Made  of  the  Comforter's  live  fire. 
And  when  Thv  goodness,  in  the  dress 
Of  anger,  will  not  seem  to  bless, 
Yet  doft  Thou  give  them  that  rich  rain, 
Which,  as  it  drops,  clears  all  again. 
O  what  kind  vifits  daily  pass 
'Twixt  Thv  great  self  and  such  poor  grass  ! 


Affliakn. 


67 


With  what  sweet  looks  doth  Thy  love  ftiine 
On  those  low  violets  of  Thine, 
While  the  tall  tulip  is  accurrt, 
And  crown-imperials  die  with  thirft  ! 
O  give  me  ftill  those  secret  meals, 
Those  rare  repafts  which  Thy  love  deals  ! 
Give  me  that  joy  which  none  can  grieve, 
And  which  in  all  griefs  doth  relieve. 
This  is  the  portion  Thy  child  begs  ; 
Not  that  of  ruft,  and  rags,  and  dregs. 

Henry  Vaugh an.     1622- 1695. 


AFFLICTION. 

"For  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chafteneth."  —  Hebrews  xxii.  6. 

WHO,  that  a  watcher  doth  remain 
Befide  a  couch  of  mortal  pain, 
Deems  he  can  ever  smile  again  ? 

Or  who  that  weeps  befide  a  bier 

Counts  he  has  any  more  to  fear 

From  the  world's  flatteries  false,  and  leer  ? 

And  yet  anon  and  he  doth  ftart 

At  the  light  toys  in  which  his  heart 

Can  now  already  claim  its  part. 


68 


AfflMon, 


O  heart  of  ours  !  so  weak  and  poor, 
That  nothing  there  can  long  endure  ; 
And  so  their  hurts  find  fhimeful  cure, — 

While  every  sadder,  wiser  thought. 
Each  holier  aim  which  sorrow  brought. 
Fades  quite  away,  and  Comes  to  naught. 

O  Thou  who  doft  our  weakness  know, 
Watch  for  us,  that  the  ftrong  hours  so 
Not  wean  us  from  our  wholesome  woe. 

Grant  Thou  that  we  may  long  retain 
The  wholesome  memories  of  pain, 
Nor  wifh  to  lose  them  soon  again. 


Richard  Chenevix  Trench. 


PATIENCE. 


LIFE  SPRINGING  FROM  DEATH. 

THE  seed  muft  die  before  the  corn  appears 
Out  of  the  ground,  in  blade  and  fruitful  ears. 

Low  have  these  ears  before  the  fickle  lain, 
Ere  thou  canft  treasure  up  the  golden  grain. 

The  grain  is  cruflied  before  the  bread  is  made, 
And  the  bread  broke  ere  life  to  man  conveyed. 

O  be  content  to  die,  to  be  laid  low. 
And  to  be  crufhed,  and  to  be  broken  so. 


If  thou  upon  God's  table  mayft  be  bread, 
Life-giving  food  for  souls  an  hungered. 

R.  C,  Trench. 


70  Patience. 


A  CITY  THAT  HATH  FOUNDATIONS. 

THEREFORE,  O  friend  !  I  would  not,  if  I  might, 
Rebuild  my  house  of  lies  wherein  I  joyed 
One  time  to  dwell ;  my  soul  fhall  walk  in  white, 
Caft  down,  but  not  deftroyed. 

Therefore  in  patience  I  poffess  my  soul ; 

Yea,  therefore  as  a  flint  I  set  my  face. 
To  pluck  down,  to  build  up  again  the  whole,  — 

But  in  a  diftant  place. 

The  thorns  are  (harp,  yet  I  can  tread  on  them  ; 

The  cup  is  bitter,  yet  He  makes  it  sweet ; 
My  face  is  fteadfaft  toward  Jerusalem, 

My  heart  remembers  it. 

I  lift  the  hanging  hands,  the  feeble  knees, — 

I,  precious  more  than  seven  times  molten  gold, — 

Until  the  day  when  from  his  ftorehouses 
God  fhall  bring  new  and  old. 

Beauty  for  afhes,  oil  of  joy  for  grief. 

Garment  of  praise  for  spirit  of  heaviness  ; 

Although  to-day  I  fade  as  doth  a  leaf, 
I  languifh  and  grow  less. 


Patience.  7 1 


Although  to-day  He  prunes  my  twigs  with  pain, 
Yet  doth  His  blood  nourifh  and  warm  my  root 

To-morrow  I  fhall  put  forth  buds  again, 
And  clothe  myself  with  fruit. 

Although  to-day  I  walk  in  tedious  ways,  — 
To-day  His  ftaff  is  turned  into  a  rod,  — 

Yet  will  I  wait  for  Him  the  appointed  days. 
And  ftay  upon  my  God. 

Chrijiina  Rojfetti. 


VIA  CRUCIS,  VIA  LUCIS. 

THROUGH  night  to  light!  —  And  though  to  mortal 
eyes 

Creation's  face  a  pall  of  horror  wear. 
Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !    The  gloom  of  midnight  flies  ; 
Then  {hall  a  sunrise  follow,  mild  and  fair. 

Through  ftorm  to  calm  !  —  And  though  His  thunder-car 
The  rumbling  tempeft  drive  through  earth  and  fky, 

Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !    The  elemental  war 
Tells  that  a  blefled  healing  hour  is  nigh. 

Through  froft  to  spring  !  —  And  though  the  biting  blaft 

Of  Eurus  ftifFen  Nature's  juicy  veins. 
Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !    When  winter's  wrath  is  paft, 

Soft,  murmuring  spring  breathes  sweetly  o'er  the  plains. 


r  

72 


Patience. 


Through  ftrife  to  peace  !  —        though,  with  briftling  front, 
A  thousand  frightful  deaths  encompass  thee. 

Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !     Brave  thou  the  battle's  brunt, 
For  the  peace-march  and  song  of  victory. 

Through  sweat  to  fleep  ! — And  though  the  sultry  noon 
With  hea\'v,  drooping  wing  oppress  thee  now. 

Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !    The  cool  of  evening  soon 
Shall  lull  to  sweet  repose  thv  wearv  brow. 

Through  cross  to  crown!  —  And  though  thv  spirit's  life 

Trials  untold  aflail  with  giant  ftrength. 
Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !     Soon  ends  the  bitter  ftrife. 

And  thou  fhalt  reign  in  peace  with  Chrill  at  length. 

Through  woe  to  jov '  —  And  though  at  morn  thou  weep. 
And  though  the  midnight  finds  thee  weeping  ftill, 

Good  cheer  !  good  cheer  !    The  Shepherd  loves  his  fheep  : 
Refign  thee  to  the  watchful  Father's  will. 

Through  death  to  life  !  —  And  through  this  vale  of  tears, 
And  through  this  thiftle-field  of  life,  ascend 

To  the  great  supper  in  that  world  whose  years 
Of  bliss  unfading,  cloudless,  know  no  end. 

Kosegarten, 


Patience. 


73 


WHEN  darkness  long  has  veiled  my  mind, 
And  smiling  day  once  more  appears, 
Then,  my  Creator  !  then  I  find 
The  folly  of  my  doubts  and  fears. 

Straight  I  upbraid  my  wandering  heart. 

And  blufh  that  I  fhould  ever  be 
Thus  prone  to  a6l  so  base  a  part. 

Or  harbor  one  hard  thought  of  Thee. 

O,  let  me  then  at  length  be  taught 
What  I  am  ftill  so  flow  to  learn,  — 

That  God  is  love,  and  changes  not. 
Nor  knows  the  ftiadow  of  a  turn. 

Sweet  truth,  and  easy  to  repeat  ! 

But  when  my  faith  is  fharply  tried, 
I  find  myself  a  learner  yet, 

Unfkilful,  weak,  and  apt  to  flide. 

But,  O  my  God  !  one  look  from  Thee 

Subdues  the  disobedient  will. 
Drives  doubt  and  discontent  away. 

And  thy  rebellious  child  is  ftill. 

William  Cowper.  1779= 


74 


Patience. 


"THY  WILL  BE  DONE." 

MY  God,  my  Father  !  while  I  ftray, 
Far  from  my  home,  on  Hfe's  rough  way, 

0  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, 

''Thy  will  be  done!" 

Though  dark  my  path,  and  sad  my  lot. 
Let  me  "be  ftill,"  and  murmur  not. 
Or  breathe  the  prayer,  divinely  taught, 
"Thy  will  be  done!" 

What  though  in  lonely  grief  I  sigh 
For  friends  beloved,  no  longer  nigh; 
Submiflive  ftill  would  I  reply, 

"Thy  will  be  done!" 

If  thou  ftiouldft  call  me  to  refign 
What  moft  I  prize,  it  ne'er  was  mine 

1  only  yield  thee  what  was  thine  : 

Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Should  pining  fickness  wafte  away 
My  life  in  premature  decay, 
My  Father  !  ftill  I  ftrive  to  say, 
"Thy  will  be  done!" 


Patience. 


IS 


If  but  my  fainting  heart  be  bleft 
With  thy  sweet  spirit  for  its  gueft, 
My  God  !  to  thee  I  leave  the  reft,  — 
^'Thy  will  be  done!" 

Renew  my  will  from  day  to  day, 
Blend  it  with  thine,  and  take  away 
All  now  that  makes  it  hard  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

Then,  when  on  earth  I  breathe  no  more 
The  prayer,  oft  mixed  with  tears  before, 
I  '11  fing  upon  a  happier  fhore, 

^'Thy  will  be  done!" 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


JUDGE  NOT. 

T  UDGE  not ;  the  workings  of  his  brain 
I      And  of  his  heart  thou  canft  not  see  ; 
What  looks  to  thy  dim  eyes  a  ftain 
In  God's  pure  light  may  only  be 
A  scar,  brought  from  some  well-won  field. 
Where  thou  wouldft  only  faint  and  yield. 

The  look,  the  air,  that  frets  thy  fight 
May  be  a  token  that  below 


76 


Patience. 


The  soul  has  closed  in  deadly  fight 

With  some  infernal  fiery  foe, 
Whose  glance  would  scorch  thy  smiling  grace, 
And  caft  thee  (huddering  on  thy  face  ! 

The  fall  thou  dareft  to  despise,  — 
May  be  the  angel's  flackened  hand 

Has  suffered  it,  that  he  may  rise 
And  take  a  firmer,  surer  ftand  ; 

Or,  trufting  less  to  earthly  things. 

May  henceforth  learn  to  use  his  wings. 

And  judge  none  loft  ;  but  wait  and  see, 

With  hopeful  pity,  not  disdain  ; 
The  depth  of  the  abyss  may  be 

The  measure  of  the  height  of  pain 
And  love  and  glory  that  may  raise 
This  soul  to  God  in  after  days  ! 

Miss  A.  A.  Proper. 


HASTE  NOT!   REST  NOT! 

WITHOUT  hafte!  without  reft! 
Bind  the  motto  to  thy  breaft  ; 
Bear  it  with  thee  as  a  spell  ; 
Storm  or  sunftiine,  guard  it  well ! 


Patience. 


11 


Heed  not  flowers  that  round  thee  bloom, 
Bear  it  onward  to  the  tomb  ! 

Hafte  not  !  let  no  thoughtless  deed 
Mar  for  aye  the  spirit's  speed  ! 
Ponder  well  and  know  the  right, 
Onward  then  with  all  thy  might  ! 
Halte  not !  years  can  ne'er  atone 
For  one  reckless  a6lion  done. 


Reft  not !  life  is  sweeping  by. 
Go  and  dare  before  you  die  : 
Something  mighty  and  sublime 
Leave  behind  to  conquer  time  ! 
Glorious  't  is  to  live  for  aye, 
When  these  forms  have  passed  away. 

Hafte  not !  reft  not  !  calmly  wait ; 
Meekly  bear  the  ftorms  of  fate  ! 
Duty  be  thy  polar  guide,  — 
Do  the  right,  whate'er  betide  ! 
Hafte  not  !  reft  not  !  conflidls  paft, 
God  ftiall  crown  thy  work  at  laft. 

From  the  German  of  Goethe,  1768. 


PRAYER. 


EXHORTATION  TO  PRAYER. 

NOT  on  a  prayerless  bed,  not  on  a  prayerless  1 
Compose  thy  weary  limbs  to  reft  ; 
For  they  alone  are  bleft 
With  balmy  fleep 
Whom  angels  keep  ; 
Nor,  though  by  care  opprefled. 

Or  anxious  sorrow. 
Or  thought  in  many  a  coil  perplexed 
For  coming  morrow, 
Lay  not  thy  head 
On  prayerless  bed. 

For  who  can  tell,  when  fleep  thine  eye  fhall  close, 
That  earthly  cares  and  woes 
To  thee  may  e'er  return  ? 
Arouse,  my  soul ! 
Slumber  control. 
And  let  thy  lamp  burn  brightly  ; 
So  fhall  thine  eyes  discern 


Prayer. 


79 


Things  pure  and  fightly  ; 

Taught  by  the  spirit  ;  learn 
Never  on  prayerless  bed 
To  lay  thine  unbleft  head. 


Haft  thou  no  pining  want,  or  wifh,  or  care, 
That  calls  for  holy  prayer  ? 

Has  thy  day  been  so  bright 

That  in  its  flight 
There  is  no  trace  of  sorrow  ? 
And  art  thou  sure  to-morrow 

Will  be  like  this,  and  more 
Abundant  ?    Doft  thou  yet  lay  up  thy  ftore. 

And  ftill  make  plans  for  more  ? 

Thou  fool  !  this  very  night 

Thy  soul  may  wing  its  flight. 


Haft  thou  no  being  than  thyself  more  dear, 
That  ploughs  the  ocean  deep. 
And  when  ftorms  sweep 

The  wintry,  lowering  fky, 
f'or  whom  thou  wak'ft  and  weepeft  ? 
O  when  thy  pangs  are  deepeft. 
Seek  then  the  covenant  ark  of  prayer  ! 
For  He  that  flumbereth  not  is  there : 
His  ear  is  open  to  thy  cry. 

O,  then,  on  prayerless  bed 
Lay  not  thy  thoughtless  head  ! 


8o 


Prayer. 


Arouse  thee,  weary  soul,  nor  yield  to  {lumber  ! 

Till  in  communion  bleft 

With  the  eleft  ye  reft, 
Those  souls  of  countless  number ; 

And  with  them  raise 

The  note  of  praise. 
Reaching  from  earth  to  Heaven  : 
Chosen,  redeemed,  forgiven  ! 

So  lay  thv  happy  head, 

Prayer-crowned,  on  blessed  bed. 

Margaret  Mercer. 


PRAYER. 

"  I  will,  therefore,  that  men  pray  everywhere,  lifting  up  holy  hands,  with- 
out wrath  and  doubting." —  i  Tim.  ii.  8. 

BE  not  afraid  to  prav,  —  to  pray  is  right. 
Pray,  if  thou  canft,  with  hope  ;  but  ever  pray, 
Though  hope  be  weak,  or  sick  with  long  delay  ; 
Pray  in  the  darkness,  if  there  be  no  light. 
Far  is  the  time,  remote  from  human  fight. 

When  war  and  discord  on  the  earth  (hall  cease  ; 
Yet  every  prayer  for  universal  peace 
Avails  the  blefled  time  to  expedite. 
Whate'er  is  good  to  wifh,  afk  that  of  Heaven, 
Though  it  be  what  thou  canft  not  hope  to  see  ; 


Prayer.  8 1 

Pray  to  be  perfect,  though  material  leaven 

P'orbid  the  spirit  so  on  earth  to  be  ; 
But  if  for  any  wifh  thou  dareft  not  pray, 
Then  pray  to  God  to  caft  that  wifh  away. 

Hartley  Coleridge.  1840. 


THE  PRAYERS  I  MAKE. 

THE  prayers  I  make  will  then  be  sweet  indeed, 
If  Thou  the  spirit  give  by  which  I  pray  ; 
My  unaffifted  heart  is  barren  clay, 
That  of  its  native  self  can  nothing  feed  ; 
Of  good  and  pious  works  Thou  art  the  seed 

That  quickens  only  where  Thou  sayft  it  may. 
Unless  Thou  fhow  to  us  Thy  own  true  way. 
No  man  can  find  it :  Father  !  Thou  muft  lead  ; 

Do  Thou  then  breathe  those  thoughts  into  my  mind 
By  which  such  virtue  may  in  me  be  bred 
That  in  Thy  holy  footfteps  I  may  tread  ; 

The  fetters  of  my  tongue  do  Thou  unbind. 
That  I  may  have  the  power  to  fing  to  Thee, 
And  sound  Thy  praises  everlaftingly  ! 

Michel  Angela.     Tranjl.  hy  Wordsworth.     1474- 1564. 

6 


82 


Prayer. 


PRAYER. 

LORD,  teach  us  how  to  pray  aright, 
With  reverence  and  with  fear : 
Though  duft  and  ailies  in  Thy  fight, 
We  may,  we  muft,  draw  near. 

Burdened  with  guilt,  convinced  of  fin. 
In  weakness,  want,  and  woe, 

Fightings  without,  and  fears  within. 
Lord,  whither  fhall  we  go  ? 

God  of  all  grace,  we  come  to  Thee 
With  broken,  contrite  hearts  \ 

Give  what  Thine  eye  delights  to  see, — 
Truth  in  the  inward  parts. 

Give  deep  humility  ;  the  sense 

Of  godly  sorrow  give  ; 
A  ftrong,  defiring  confidence. 

To  hear  Thy  voice  and  live  ; 

Patience,  to  watch,  and  wait,  and  weep. 

Though  mercy  long  delay  ; 
Courage  our  fainting  souls  to  keep. 

And  truft  Thee,  though  Thou  flay. 


Prayer. 


83 


Give  these,  and  then  Thy  will  be  done  ; 

Thus,  ftrengthened  with  all  might, 
We,  by  Thy  Spirit  and  Thy  Son, 

Shall  pray,  and  pray  aright. 

parries  Montgomery.  1803-1853. 


THE  LORD'S  PRAYER. 

IF  any  be  diftrefled,  and  fain  would  gather 
Some  comfort,  let  him  hafte  unto 
Our  Father. 
For  we  of  hope  and  help  are  quite  bereaven 
Except  Thou  succor  us 

Who  art  in  Heaven. 
Thou  fhoweft  mercy,  therefore  for  the  same 
We  praise  Thee,  finging. 

Hallowed  be  Thy  name. 
Of  all  our  miseries  caft  up  the  sum  ; 
Show  us  Thy  joys,  and  let 

Thy  kingdom  come. 
We  mortal  are,  and  alter  from  our  birth  ; 
Thou  conftant  art. 

Thy  will  be  done  on  earth. 
Thou  madeft  the  earth  as  well  as  planets  seven. 
Thy  name  be  blefled  here 

As  't  is  in  Heaven. 


Nothing  we  have  to  use  or  debts  to  pay, 

Except  Thou  gi\  e  it  us. 

Give  us  this  da\- 
^Vhc^e\vi[h  to  clothe  us,  wherewith  to  be  ted. 
For  without  Thee  we  want 

Our  d.iilv  bread. 
\\  e  wan:,  but  we  want  no  faults,  tor  no  da\'  palles 
Bu:  we  do  fm,  — 

Forgi\e  us  our  trespalles. 
No  man  tVom  linning  ever  tree  did  h  \  e  ; 
Forgive  us.  Lord,  our  fins. 

As  we  forgive. 
It  we  repent  our  fauhs.  Thou  ne'er  disdaineit  us  ; 
W'e  pardon  them 

That  trespass  againll  us  ; 
Forgive  us  that  is  pall,  a  new  path  tread  us  ; 
Direct  us  alwavs  in  Thv  faith, 

And  lead  us  — 
^Ve,  Thine  own  people  and  Thv  chosen  nation  — 
Into  all  truth,  but  i 

Not  into  temptation.  | 
Thou  that  of  all  good  graces  art  the  giver, 
Surrer  us  not  to  wander, 

But  deliver 

Us  from  the  tierce  aUaults  of  world  and  devil 
And  flelh,  so  lhalt  Thou  free  us 

From  all  evil. 
To  these  petitions  let  both  church  and  la\  men, 
^^''.:h  one  consent  of  heart  and  \'olce,  say 

Amen. 


Prayer. 


85 


COME,  let  us  pray  :  't  is  sweet  to  feel 
That  God  himself  is  near  ; 
That,  while  we  at  his  footftool  kneel. 

His  mercy  deigns  to  hear  : 
Though  sorrows  cloud  life's  dreary  way, 
This  is  our  solace,  —  let  us  pray. 

Come,  let  us  pray  :  the  burning  brow, 
The  heart  opprefled  with  care, 

And  all  the  woes  that  throng  us  now, 
Will  be  relieved  by  prayer  : 

Our  God  will  chase  our  griefs  away  ; 

O  glorious  thought!  —  come,  let  us  pray. 

Come,  let  us  pray  :  the  mercy-seat 

Invites  the  fervent  prayer  ; 
Our  Heavenly  Father  waits  to  greet 

The  contrite  spirit  there  : 
O  loiter  not,  nor  longer  ftay 
From  Him  who  loves  us;  —  let  us  pray. 


86 


Prayer. 


THE  HOUR  OF  PRAYER. 

MY  God  !  is  any  hour  so  sweet, 
From  blufh  of  morn  to  evening  ftar, 
As  that  which  calls  me  to  Thy  feet, 
The  hour  of  prayer  ? 

Bleft  is  the  tranquil  hour  of  morn, 

And  bleft  that  hour  of  solemn  eve, 
When,  on  the  wings  of  prayer  upborne, 
The  world  I  leave. 

Then  is  my  ftrength  by  Thee  renewed  ; 

Then  are  my  fins  by  Thee  forgiven  ; 
Then  doft  Thou  cheer  my  solitude 
With  hopes  of  heaven. 

No  words  can  tell  what  sweet  relief 
There  for  my  every  want  I  find  ; 
What  ftrength  for  warfare,  balm  for  grief, 
What  peace  of  mind. 

Huftied  is  each  doubt,  gone  every  fear  ; 

My  spirit  seems  in  heaven  to  ftay  ; 
And  e'en  the  penitential  tear 
Is  wiped  away. 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


Prayer. 


87 


OLORD,  turn  not  Thy  face  away 
From  them  that  lowly  lie, 
Lamenting  sore  their  finful  life 

With  tears  and  bitter  cry  ; 
Thy  mercy-gates  are  open  wide 

To  them  that  mourn  their  fin  ; 
O  (hut  them  not  againft  us,  Lord, 
But  let  us  enter  in. 

We  need  not  to  confess  our  fault. 

For  surely  Thou  canft  tell 
What  we  have  done,  and  what  we  are 

Thou  knoweft  very  well  : 
Wherefore,  to  beg  and  to  entreat, 

With  tears  we  come  to  Thee, 
As  children  that  have  done  amiss 

f^all  at  their  father's  knee. 

And  need  we  then,  O  Lord,  repeat 

The  bleffing  which  we  crave. 
When  Thou  doft  know,  before  we  speak. 

The  thmg  that  we  would  have  ? 
Mercy,  O  Lord,  mercy  we  afk. 

This  is  the  total  sum  ; 
For  mercy.  Lord,  is  all  our  prayer  ; 

O  let  Thy  mercy  come  ! 

Variation  by  Bijhop  Heber.  1827. 
From  'John  Mardly.  1562. 


88 


Prayer. 


HELP  us,  Lord  !  each  hour  of  need, 


Help  us  in  thought  and  word  and  deed. 
Each  hour  on  earth  we  live  ! 

O  help  us  when  our  spirits  bleed 

With  contrite  anguifh  sore  ; 
And  when  our  hearts  are  cold  and  dead, 

O  help  us,  Lord,  the  more! 

O  help  us,  through  the  prayer  of  faith, 

More  firmly  to  believe  ; 
For  ftill  the  more  the  servant  hath. 

The  more  (hall  he  receive. 

If  ftrangers  to  Thy  fold  we  call. 

Imploring  at  Thy  feet 
The  crumbs  that  from  Thy  table  fall, 

'T  is  all  we  dare  entreat. 

But  be  it.  Lord  of  mercy,  all. 
So  Thou  wilt  grant  but  this  : 

The  crumbs  that  from  Thy  table  fall 
Are  light  and  life  and  bliss. 


Thy  heavenly  succor  give  ; 


Prayer.  89 

O  help  us,  Jesus,  from  on  high  ! 

We  know  no  help  but  Thee  : 
O  help  us  so  to  live  and  die 

As  Thine  in  heaven  to  be  ! 

H.  H.  Milman.  1827. 


THE  POWER  OF  TRUST. 

MY  God  !  in  life's  moft  doubtful  hour. 
In  fharpeft  pains  of  death, 
Who  waits  on  Thee  hath  peace  and  power. 
Thou  present  help  of  faith  ! 

Thy  crown  of  joy  upon  his  head, 

Thy  light  upon  his  face, 
Through  ftorms  and  ftrife  thy  Chrift  could  tread 

On  to  the  happy  place. 

And  though  the  cross  were  fliarp  and  high. 

The  lifted  Lord  could  see 
The  souls  he  loved  drawn  nearer  by 

His  love's  laft  energy. 

Help  me,  O  God  !  to  seek,  to  win. 
Through  ftruggles  and  through  prayer. 

The  faith  which  frees  my  soul  from  fm. 
And  brings  Thy  bleffing  there. 


90 


Prayer. 


So  fhall  my  cross  of  conquered  fhame 

My  fainting  brothers  raise  ; 
So  Thy  triumphant  mercy  flame 

Around  my  path  of  praise. 

And  earth,  with  all  its  pain  and  toil, 

By  love's  pure  presence  bleft. 
Shall  wear  the  calm,  celeftial  smile 

Of  heaven's  eternal  reft. 

IV,  H.  Hurlhurt. 


HABITUAL  DEVOTION. 

WHILE  Thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power, 
Be  my  vain  wifhes  ftilled  ; 
And  may  this  consecrated  hour 
With  better  hopes  be  filled. 

Thy  love  the  power  of  thought  beftowed  ; 

To  Thee  my  thoughts  would  soar  ; 
Thy  mercy  o'er  my  life  has  flowed  ; 

That  mercy  I  adore. 

In  each  event  of  life,  how  clear 

Thy  ruling  hand  I  see  ! 
Each  blefling  to  my  soul  more  dear, 

Because  conferred  by  Thee. 


Prayer. 


91 


In  every  joy  that  crowns  my  days, 

In  every  pain  I  bear, 
My  heart  fhall  find  delight  in  praise, 

Or  seek  relief  in  prayer. 

When  gladness  wings  my  favored  hour, 

Thy  love  my  thoughts  fhall  fill  ; 
Refigned,  when  ftorms  of  sorrow  lower. 

My  soul  fliall  meet  Thy  will. 

My  lifted  eye,  without  a  tear. 

The  gathering  ftorm  (hall  see  •, 
My  fteadfaft  heart  fhall  know  no  fear  ; 

That  heart  fhall  reft  on  Thee. 

Miss  H.  M.  Williams.     1762- 1 827. 


ON  LEAVING  HOME  FOR  A  MILDER  CLIMATE. 

"My  presence  fhall  go  with  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  reft."  —  Exodus 
xxxiii.  14. 

THIS  gracious  promise.  Lord,  fulfil. 
Now  that  I  leave  a  home  so  dear  ; 
My  soul's  sweet  home  is  present  ftill, 
If  Thou  art  near. 

Beneath  thy  wings  if  I  remain. 

My  home!  my  hiding-place!  my  reft! 


92 


Prayer. 


Sheltered,  and  safe,  and  free  from  pain, 
My  soul  is  bleft. 

Thy  presence  fills  my  mind  with  peace, 
Brightens  the  thoughts  so  dark  erewhile. 

Bids  cares  and  sad  forebodings  cease. 
Makes  all  things  smile. 

This  ftriking  of  my  pilgrim  tent 

No  longer  mournful  will  appear, 
If  Thy  reviving  presence  lent 

The  traveller  cheer. 

The  spacious  earth  is  all  thine  own  ; 

What  land  soe'er  my  fteps  invite. 
That  land  thine  eye  will  reft  upon. 

By  day,  by  night. 

Whether  again  my  home  I  see, 

Or  yield  on  foreign  ftiores  my  breath. 

Take  not  thy  presence,  Lord,  from  me. 
In  life  or  death  ! 

In  thee,  my  hiding-place  divine. 

Be  reft  throughout  life's  journeyings  given: 
Then  sweeter,  holier  reft  be  mine. 

With  Thee  in  heaven  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


Prayer. 


93 


PRAYER  IN  DESPONDENCY. 

BOWED  'neath  the  load  of  human  ill, 
Our  spirits  droop  and  are  dismayed  ; 
O  Thou  that  saideft,  "Peace,  be  ftill," 
To  the  wild  sea,  and  waft  obeyed. 
Speak  comfortable  words  of  peace 
And  bid  the  spirit's  tumult  cease  ! 

We  afk  not  length  of  days,  nor  ease, 
Nor  gold  ;  but  for  Thy  mercy's  sake, 
Give  us  Thy  joy,  surpafling  these. 
Which  the  world  gives  not,  nor  can  take: 
And  count  it  not  for  sin  that  we 
At  times  despond,  or  turn  from  Thee. 

From  Mary  Howitfs     Seven  Temptations.'" 


ABIDE  IN  ME,  AND  I  IN  YOU. 

THAT  myftic  word  of  Thine,  O  sovereign  Lord, 
Is  all  too  pure,  too  high,  too  deep  for  me  ! 
Weary  with  ftriving  and  with  longing  faint, 
I  breathe  it  back  again  in  prayer  to  Thee. 


94 


Prayer. 


Abide  in  me,  I  pray,  and  I  in  Thee  ! 

From  this  good  hour,  O  leave  me  never  more  ! 
Then  fliall  the  discord  cease,  the  wound  be  healed, 

The  lifelong  bleeding  of  the  soul  be  o'er. 

Abide  in  me,  —  o'erfhadow  by  Thy  love 

Each  half-formed  purpose  and  dark  thought  of  sin  ; 

Quench,  ere  it  rise,  each  selfifh,  low  defne. 
And  keep  my  soul  as  Thine,  calm  and  divine  : 

As  some  rare  perfume  in  a  vase  of  clay 
Pervades  it  with  a  fragrance  not  its  own, 

So,  when  Thou  dwelleft  in  a  mortal  soul. 

All  heaven's  own  sweetness  seems  around  it  thrown. 

The  soul  alone,  like  a  negle61:ed  harp. 

Grows  out  of  tune,  and  needs  that  Hand  divine. 

Dwell  Thou  within  it,  tune  and  touch  the  chords. 
Till  every  note  and  firing  fhall  answer  Thine. 

Abide  in  7ne :  there  have  been  moments  pure. 

When  I  have  seen  Thy  face  and  felt  Thy  power  ; 

Then  evil  loft  its  grasp,  and  paffion,  hufhed. 
Owned  the  divine  enchantment  of  the  hour. 

These  were  but  seasons  beautiful  and  rare  ; 

Abide  in  me,  and  they  fhall  ever  be  : 
I  pray  Thee  now  fulfil  my  earneft  prayer. 

Come  and  abide  in  me,  and  I  in  Thee. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe. 


Prayer. 


LITANY  TO  THE  HOLY  SPIRIT. 

IN  the  hour  of  my  diftress, 
When  temptations  me  oppress, 
And  when  I  my  fins  confess, 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  I  He  within  my  bed. 
Sick  at  heart  and  fick  at  head. 
And  with  doubts  disquieted. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  house  doth  figh  and  weep. 
And  the  world  is  drowned  in  fleep. 
Yet  mine  eyes  the  watch  do  keep, 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  paffing-bell  doth  toll. 
And  the  furies  in  a  (hoal 
Come  to  fright  a  parting  soul. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When,  God  knows,  I 'm  tofTed  about. 
Either  with  despair  or  doubt. 
Yet  before  the  glass  be  out. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 


96 


Prayer. 


When  the  tapers  now  burn  blue, 
And  the  comforters  are  few, 
And  that  number  more  than  true, 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  prieft  his  laft  hath  prayed. 
And  I  nod  to  what  is  said, 
'Cause  my  speech  is  now  decayed. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  tempter  me  pursu'th 
With  the  fins  of  all  my  youth. 
And  half  damns  me  with  untruth. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  flames  and  hellifh  cries 
Fright  mine  ears  and  fright  mine  eyes, 
And  all  terrors  me  surprise. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  the  judgment  is  revealed. 
And  that  opened  which  was  sealed. 
When  to  Thee  I  have  appealed, 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

Robert  Herrick.  1648. 


Prayer. 


97 


CONSECRATION. 

FROM  my  lips  in  their  defilement, 
From  my  heart  in  its  beguilement, 
From  my  tongue,  which  speaks  not  fair. 
From  my  soul,  ftained  everywhere,  — 
O  my  Jesus,  take  my  prayer  ! 
Spurn  me  not,  for  all  it  says,  — 
Not  for  words  and  not  for  ways. 
Not  for  fhameleflness  endued  ! 
Make  me  brave  to  speak  my  mood, 

0  my  Jesus,  as  I  would. 

Or  teach  me  (which  I  rather  seek) 
What  to  do  and  what  to  speak. 

1  have  finned  more  than  fhe 

Who,  learning  where  to  meet  with  Thee, 
And  bringing  myrrh,  the  higheft  priced. 
Anointed  bravely,  from  her  knee 
Thy  bleffed  feet  accordingly. 

My  God,  mv  Lord,  my  Chrift, 
As  thou  saideft  not,  "  Depart," 
To  that  suppliant  from  her  heart. 
Scorn  me  not,  O  Word,  that  art 
The  gentleft  one  of  all  words  said  ! 
But  give  thy  feet  to  me  inftead, 


98 


Prayer. 


That  tenderly  I  may  them  kiss, 

And  clasp  them  close,  and  never  miss, 

With  over-dropping  tears,  as  free 

And  precious  as  that  myrrh  could  be, 

T'  anoint  them  bravely  from  my  knee  ! 

Wafh  me  with  thy  tears  !  draw  nigh  me, 

That  their  salt  may  purify  me  ! 

Thou  remit  my  fins,  who  knoweft 

All  the  finning,  to  the  loweft, — 

Knoweft  all  my  wounds,  and  seeft 

All  the  ftripes  thyself  decreeft  ; 

Yea,  but  knoweft  all  my  faith,  — 

Seeft  all  my  force  to  death,  — 

Heareft  all  my  wailings  low 

That  mine  evil  ftiould  be  so. 

Nothing  hidden  but  appears 
In  thy  knowledge,  O  Divine, 
O  Creator,  Saviour  mine  ! 

Not  a  drop  of  falling  tears. 
Not  a  breath  of  inward  moan. 
Not  a  heart-beat  which  is  gone. 

From  the  Greek  of  St.  yoannes  Damascenus., 
tranjlated  by  E.  B.  Browning. 


Prayer. 


JESUS,  caft  a  look  on  me  ; 
Give  me  sweet  fimplicity, 
Make  me  poor  and  keep  me  low, 
Seeking  only  Thee  to  know. 

Weaned  from  my  lordly  self. 

Weaned  from  the  miser's  pelf, 

Weaned  from  the  scorner's  ways. 

Weaned  from  the  luft  of  praise  : 

All  that  feeds  my  busy  pride. 
Call:  it  evermore  afide  ; 
Bid  my  will  to  Thine  submit ; 
Lay  me  humbly  at  Thy  feet. 

Make  me  like  a  little  child, 
Of  my  ftrength  and  wisdom  spoiled, 
Seeing  only  in  Thy  light. 
Walking  only  in  Thy  might, 

Leaning  on  Thy  loving  breaft, 
Where  a  weary  soul  may  reft  ; 
P'eeling  well  the  peace  of  God 
Flowing  from  Thy  gracious  Blood  ! 


100 


Prayer. 


In  this  pofture  let  me  live, 
And  hosannas  daily  give  ; 
In  this  temper  let  me  die. 
And  hosannas  ever  cry  ! 


yohn  Ber ridge.  1785. 


RACIOUS  Spirit,  dwell  with  me; 


And  with  words  that  help  and  heal 
Would  Thy  life  in  mine  reveal. 
And  with  anions  bold  and  meek 
Would  for  Chrift  mv  Saviour  speak. 

Truthful  Spirit,  dwell  with  me  ; 
I  mvself  would  truthful  be. 
And  with  wisdom  kind  and  clear 
Let  Thv  life  in  mine  appear. 
And  with  actions  brotherly 
Speak  mv  Lord's  fmcerity. 

Tender  Spirit,  dwell  with  me  ; 
I  myself  would  tender  be. 
Shut  my  heart  up  like  a  flower 
At  temptation's  darksome  hour, 
Open  it  when  (liines  the  sun. 
And  His  love  by  fragrance  own. 


would  gracious  be. 


Prayer. 


lOI 


Silent  Spirit,  dwell  with  me  ; 

I  myself  would  quiet  be,  — 

Quiet  as  the  growing  blade 

Which  through  earth  its  way  has  made, 

Silently,  like  morning  light. 

Putting  mifts  and  chills  to  flight. 

Mighty  Spirit,  dwell  with  me  ; 
I  myself  would  mighty  be, — 
Mighty  so  as  to  prevail 
Where  unaided  man  muft  fail. 
Ever  by  a  mighty  hope 
Preffing  on  and  bearing  up. 

Holy  Spirit,  dwell  with  me  ; 

I  myself  would  holy  be  ; 

Separate  from  fin,  I  would 

Choose  and  cherifh  all  things  good. 

And  whatever  I  can  be 

Give  to  Him  who  gave  me  Thee  ! 

T.  T.  Lynch.  1855. 


PRAY  FOR  ME! 

I BEG  of  you,  I  beg  of  you,  my  brothers. 
For  my  need  is  very  sore. 
Not  for  gold  and  not  for  filver  do  I  afk  you. 
But  for  something  even  more  : 


102 


Prayer, 


From  the  depths  of  your  hearts  pity  let  it  be, — 
Prav  for  me  ! 

I  beo;  of  you  whose  robes  of  radiant  whiteness 
Haye  been  kept  without  a  ftain  ; 

Of  you  who,  ftung  to  death  by  serpent  pleasure, 
Found  the  healing  angel  pain  : 

Whether  holy  or  forgiyen  you  may  be,  — 
Pray  for  me  ! 

I  beg  of  you  calm  souls  whose  wondering  pity 
Looks  at  paths  you  neyer  trod  : 

I  beg  of  you  who  suffer,  —  for  all  sorrow 
Aiufl:  be  yery  near  to  God,  — 

And  the  need  is  even  greater  than  you  see,  — 
Pray  for  me  ! 

I  beg  of  you,  O  children,  for  He  loyes  you, 
And  He  loyes  your  prayers  the  beft : 

Fold  your  little  hands  together,  and  afk  Jesus 
That  the  weary  may  haye  reft. 

That  a  bird  caught  in  a  net  may  be  set  free, — 
Pray  for  me  ! 

I  beg  of  you  who  ftand  before  the  altar. 

Whose  anointed  hands  upraise 
All  the  fin  and  all  the  sorrow  of  the  ages. 

All  the  loye  and  all  the  praise. 
And  the  glory  which  was  always  and  fhall  be,  — 
Pray  for  me  ! 


Prayer, 


I  beg  of  you,  —  of  you  who  through  life's  battle 

Our  dear  Lord  has  set  apart, 
That,  while  we  who  love  the  peril  are  made  captives, 

Still  the  Church  may  have  its  heart 
Which  is  fettered  that  our  souls  may  be  set  free,  — 
Pray  for  me  ! 

I  beg  of  you,  I  beg  of  you,  my  brothers. 

For  an  alms  this  very  day, 
I  am  ftanding  on  your  doorftep  as  a  beggar 

Who  will  not  be  turned  away, 
And  the  charity  you  give  my  soul  fhall  be, — 
Pray  for  me  ! 

Miss  A.  A.  Proper. 


ONE  prayer  I  have,  —  all  prayers  in  one, — 
When  I  am  wholly  thine  ; 
Thy  will,  my  God,  thy  will  be  done, 
And  let  that  will  be  mine. 

All-wise,  almighty,  and  all-good. 

In  Thee  I  firmly  truft  ; 
Thy  ways,  unknown  or  underftood. 

Are  merciful  and  juft. 

May  I  remember  that  to  Thee 
Whate'er  I  have  I  owe  ; 


104 


Prayer, 


And  back,  in  gratitude,  from  me 
AJav  all  thv  bounties  flow. 

Thy  gifts  are  onlv  then  enjoyed, 

When  used  as  talents  lent  ; 
Those  talents  onlv  well  employed. 

When  in  th\-  service  spent. 

And  though  thv  wisdom  takes  away, 

Shall  I  arraign  th\-  will  : 
No  ;   let  me  bless  thy  name,  and  say, 

"  The  Lord  is  gracious  llill." 

A  pilgrim  through  the  earth  I  roam. 

Of  nothing  long  polleiled, 
And  all  mull  fail  when  I  go  home, 

For  this  is  not  my  rell. 

"J.  Montgo?ntr\'.  1803- 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE. 


THY  will  be  done  '     I  will  not  fear 
The  fate  pro\  ided  by  thy  lo\  e  ; 
Though  clouds  and  darkness  Ihroud  me  here, 
I  know  that  all  is  bright  above. 


Prayer.  105 

The  ftars  of  heaven  are  fhining  on, 

Though  these  frail  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears  ; 
The  hopes  of  earth  indeed  are  gone, 

But  are  not  ours  th'  immortal  years  ? 

Father  !   forgive  the  heart  that  cHngs 
Thus  trembHng  to  the  things  of  time  ; 

And  bid  my  soul,  on  angel  wings. 
Ascend  into  a  purer  clim.e. 

There  fhall  no  doubts  difturb  its  truft, 

No  sorrows  dim  celeftial  love  ; 
But  these  affli£lions  of  the  duft, 

Like  (hadows  of  the  night,  remove. 

E'en  now,  above,  there 's  radiant  day. 
While  clouds  and  darkness  brood  below  ; 

Then,  Father,  joyful  on  my  way 
To  drink  the  bitter  cup  I  go. 

Jane  Roscoe.  1800. 


BEGIN  WITH  GOD. 

BEGIN  the  day  with  God! 
He  is  thy  sun  and  day  ; 
His  is  the  radiance  of  thy  dawn. 
To  Him  address  thy  lay. 


io6 


Prayer. 


Sino;  a  new  sons;  at  morn ' 

Join  the  glad  woods  and  hills  ; 

Join  the  frefli  winds  and  seas  and  plains, 
Join  the  bright  flowers  and  rills. 

Sing  thy  firft  song  to  God  ! 

Not  to  thv  fellow-man  ; 
Not  to  the  creatures  of  his  hand, 

But  to  the  Glorious  One. 

Awake,  cold  lips,  and  fing  ! 

Arise,  dull  knees,  and  pray  ; 
Lift  up,  O  man,  thv  heart  and  eves  ; 

Brufh  flothfulness  away. 

Look  up,  bevond  these  clouds  ! 

Thither  thv  pathway  lies  ; 
Mount  up,  awav,  and  linger  not, 

Thv  goal  is  vonder  (kies. 

Caft  every  weight  afide  ! 

Do  battle  with  each  fin  ; 
Fight  with  the  faithless  world  without. 

The  faithless  heart  within. 

Take  thv  flrll:  meal  with  God  ! 

He  is  thv  heavenly  food  ; 
Feed  luith  and  oyi  Him ;  he  with  thee 

Will  feaft  in  brotherhood. 


Prayer.  107 

Take  thy  firft  walk  with  God  ! 

Let  him  go  forth  with  thee  ; 
By  ftream  or  sea  or  mountain-path, 

Seek  ftill  his  company. 

Thy  firft  transa6tion  be 

With  God  himself  above  ; 
So  fhall  thy  bufiness  prosper  well, 

And  all  the  day  be  love. 

//.  Bonar.  1856. 


I  AND  MY  HOUSE  WILL  SERVE  THE  LORD. 

I AND  my  house  are  ready.  Lord, 
With  hearts  that  beat  in  sweet  accord, 
To  serve  Thee  and  obey  Thee  ; 
Be  in  the  midft  of  us,  we  pray. 
To  guide  and  bless  us,  that  we  may 
A  willing  service  pay  Thee  : 
Of  us  all. 
Great  and  small. 
Make  a  pious  congregation, 
Pure  in  life  and  conversation. 

Let  thy  good  Spirit  by  the  word 
Work  mightily  in  us,  O  Lord, 
Our  souls  and  bodies  filling  ! 


lo8  Prayer. 

O  let  the  sun  of  grace  fhine  bright, 
That  there  may  be  abundant  light 
In  us  and  in  our  dwelling : 

On  our  way, 

Night  and  day, 

With  the  heavenly  manna  feed  us. 
To  the  heavenly  Canaan  lead  us. 

Send  peace  and  bleffing  from  above. 

Unite  us  all  in  faith  and  love 
Who  in  this  house  are  living; 

Let  charity  our  hearts  prepare 

To  suffer  long  and  all  things  bear, 
Meek,  gentle,  and  forgiving  : 
Nor  in  aught 
Chrift  hath  taught 
Let  us  fail  to  one  another. 
But  each  love  and  help  his  brother. 

Lord,  let  our  house  be  built  upon 
Thy  faithfulness  and  grace  alone  ; 

And  when  the  day  is  clofmg. 
And  night  her  gloomy  fhadow  flings. 
Let  us  lie  down  beneath  Thy  wings. 
With  childlike  trull  repofing  ; 
E'en  with  smart 
In  the  heart. 

Cheerful,  happy,  and  confiding. 
Patiently  in  Thee  abiding. 


Prayer. 


109 


If  Thou  fhouldft  bless  our  home  with  wealth, 
Let  not  the  world  creep  in  by  ftealth, 

And  take  away  the  blelling  ; 
For  if  our  hearts  fhould  empty  be 
Of  meekness  and  humility, 
Although  all  else  poffeffing. 
We  fhould  miss 
That  true  bliss, 

Which  not  all  the  world's  vaft  treasure 
Can  supply  in  smalleft  measure. 

a  J.  p.  Spitta. 
Tranjlated  by  R.  MaJJte.  1854. 


MORNING. 

CHRIST,  whose  glory  fills  the  fkies, 
Chrift,  the  true,  the  only  Light, 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  arise. 

Triumph  o'er  the  (hades  of  night ! 
Day-spring  from  on  high,  be  near  ! 
Day-ftar,  in  my  heart  appear  ! 

Dark  and  cheerless  is  the  morn 

Unaccompanied  by  Thee  ; 
Joyless  is  the  day's  return. 

Till  thy  mercy's  beams  I  see  ; 


1 10 


Prayer. 


Till  thev  inward  light  impart, 
Glad  mv  eves,  and  warm  mv  heart. 

Vilit  then  this  soul  of  mine, 

Pierce  the  gloom  of  fin  and  grief; 
Fill  me,  Radiancy  Divine, 

Scatter  all  mv  unbelief! 
More  and  more  Thvself  display. 

Shining  to  the  perfecl:  dav  ! 

Charles  J  I  ejJey.     i  740. 


MORNING. 

OTLMELY  happv,  timelv  wise, 
Hearts  that  with  rifmg  morn  arise  ! 
Eyes  that  the  beam  celeltial  view, 
Which  evermore  makes  all  things  new  ! 

New  everv  morning  is  the  lo\-e 
Our  wakening  and  uprifing  pro\e. 
Through  fleep  and  darkness  safelv  brought, 
Rellored  to  life,  and  power,  and  thought. 

New  mercies,  each  returning  dav. 

Hover  around  us  while  we  prav  ; 

New  perils  pall,  new  fins  forgi\-en. 

New  thoughts  of  God,  new  hopes  of  Heaven. 


Prayer. 


1 1 1 


If,  on  our  daily  course,  our  mind 
Be  set  to  hallow  all  we  find. 
New  treasures  ftill,  of  countless  price, 
God  will  provide  for  sacrifice. 

Old  friends,  old  scenes,  will  lovelier  be, 
As  more  of  Heaven  in  each  we  see  ; 
Some  softening  gleam  of  love  and  prayer 
Shall  dawn  on  every  cross  and  care. 

As  for  some  dear  familiar  strain 
Untired  we  alk,  and  afk  again. 
Ever,  in  its  melodious  ftore. 
Finding  a  spell  unheard  before,  — 

Such  is  the  bliss  of  souls  serene, 

When  they  have  sworn,  and  fteadfaft  mean, 

Counting  the  coft,  in  all  t'  espy 

Their  God,  in  all  themselves  deny. 

O  could  we  learn  that  sacrifice. 
What  lights  would  all  around  us  rise  ! 
How  would  our  hearts  with  wisdom  talk 
Along  life's  dulleft,  drearieft  walk! 

We  need  not  bid,  for  cloiftered  cell. 
Our  neighbor  and  our  work  farewell. 
Nor  ftrive  to  wind  ourselves  too  high 
For  finful  man  beneath  the  fky. 


112 


Prayer. 


The  trivial  round,  the  common  tal"k. 
Will  furnifh  all  we  ought  to  afk  ; 
Room  to  denv  ourselves  ;  a  road 
To  bring  us,  daily,  nearer  God. 

Seek  we  no  more  :  content  with  these. 
Let  present  rapture,  comfort,  ease. 
As  Heaven  shall  bid  them,  come  and  oq  ; 
The  secret  this  of  reft  below. 

Only,  O  Lord,  in  Thv  dear  love 
Fit  us  for  perfed:  reft  above  ; 
And  help  us,  this  and  everv  dav. 
To  live  more  nearlv  as  we  prav  ! 

Joim  Keble.  1827. 


WHEN  WE  FIRST  AWAKE. 

DEAR  God,  that  watch  doth  keep 
Round  all  that  honor  Thee, 
Vouchsafing  Thv  beloved  fleep 
When  reft  fhall  needful  be. 
My  soul  returns  Thee  praise. 

That  thus  refreflied  I  am. 
And  that  mv  tongue  a  \oice  can  raise. 
To  praise  Thee  for  the  same. 


Prayer, 


As  now  my  soul  doth  {hake 

Dull  fleep  out  of  her  eyes, 
So  let  Thy  Spirit  me  awake, 

That  I  from  fin  may  rise. 
The  night  is  paft  away^ 

Which  filled  us  full  of  fears  \ 
And  we  enjoy  the  glorious  day, 

Wherein  Thy  grace  appears. 

O,  let  me,  therefore,  fhun 

All  errors  of  the  night  ; 
Thy  righteousness  let  me  put  on. 

And  walk  as  in  the  light  : 
And  guard  me  from  his  power, 

Since  I  on  Thee  rely, 
Who  walks  in  darkness  to  devour 

When  our  long  deep  draws  nigh. 

George  Wither.     1 64 1. 


MORNING. 

THE  purple  morning  gilds  the  eaftern  fkies. 
And  what  the  night  had  hidden  from  our  eyes 
Now  stands  revealed  to  our  admiring  gaze  ; 
Mountain  and  valley,  wood  and  fruitful  plain. 
Which  in  their  mifty  bed  alleep  had  lain, 

Shine  forth  and  glitter  in  the  sun's  bright  rays. 
8 


114 


Prayer. 


Shine  in  my  soul,  and  light  and  joy  impart, 

0  blefled  Jesus,  Sun  of  my  dark  heart. 

O  cause  therein  the  light  of  truth  to  fhine  ; 
Show  me  each  crooked  winding  of  my  heart, 
Change  and  renew  it  so  in  every  part. 

That  my  whole  nature  be  transformed  to  Thine. 

Lord,  in  Thy  light  O  let  me  walk  this  day. 

By  Thy  love  prompted,  ail,  and  speak,  and  pray. 

As  a  new  creature  it  becomes  to  do. 
Whose  aim  it  is,  in  all  his  words  and  ways. 
To  set  forth  duly  his  Creator's  praise. 

And  new  in  heart,  in  life  be  also  new. 

1  pray  not,  "  Take  my  troubles  all  away  "  ; 
It  is  for  love  to  bear  them  that  I  pray. 

And  firm  belief  that  all  is  for  my  good  ; 
That  every  trouble  muft  be  kindly  meant. 
Since  from  the  hands  of  Him  it  has  been  sent 

Who  is  my  loving  Father  and  my  God. 

I  pray  not  that  my  days  may  smoothly  run  ; 
Ah  no  !   I  pray,  Thy  will  alone  be  done  ! 

Yet  give  a  childlike  trufting  heart  to  me  ; 
Should  the  earth  seek  to  draw  my  spirit  down, 

0  let  my  heart  continue  ftill  Thine  own. 

And  draw  me  upward  from  the  earth  to  Thee. 

1  pray  not.  Lord,  that  Thou  wilt  quickly  end 
The  griefs  and  troubles  Thou  art  pleased  to  send  ; 


Prayer,  1 1 5 

Be  Thou  my  peace  in  every  trying  hour. 
I  afk  not  Heaven  at  once  to  enter  in, 
But  ere  I  die,  that  I  may  die  to  fin  : 

Be  Thou  its  death  j  deftroy  its  guilt  and  power. 

Thou  Sun,  by  whom  my  new  life  firft  was  lighted, 
O  let  me  not  again  become  benighted, 

But  be  my  light  when  fhades  around  me  spread ; 
With  the  bright  splendor  of  Thy  heavenly  rays 
Illuminate  the  evening  of  my  days. 

And  fhed  a  halo  round  my  dying  head. 

C.  J.  P.  Spitta. 
Tranjlated  by  R.  Majte.  1854. 


VESPERS. 

THE  weary  day  at  length  is  paft. 
Pale  fhadows  beckon  it  to  reft  ; 
The  flanting  sunbeams  fading  caft 

Their  dim  reflection  through  the  weft. 

The  song  of  birds,  the  hum  of  bees. 
The  droning  inseft's  fliining  wing, 

Are  filent  all,  the  evening  breeze 
Its  plaintive  monody  doth  fing. 


ii6 


Prayer. 


Now,  holv  bells,  vour  chime  begin 
f^rom  towers  that  bathe  in  sunset  air  ! 

Lift  these  poor  spirits  from  the  fin 
That  chains  with  fetters  gross  or  fair. 

Speak  of  the  coming  fliadowed  night, 
That  preludes  dav^  no  more  to  cease  ; 

Speak  of  the  Love  that  gloom  to  light. 
And  guide  us  to  the  perfect  Peace  ! 

C.  M.  P. 


VESPERS. 

O SHADOW  in  a  sultry  land  ! 
We  gather  to  thv  breaft, 
Whose  love,  unfolding  like  the  night, 

Brings  quietude  and  reil. 
Glimpse  of  the  fairer  life  to  be. 
In  foretafte  here  poffefled  ! 

From  aimless  wanderings  we  come, 

From  drifting  to  and  fro  ; 
The  wave  of  being  mingles  deep. 

Amid  its  ebb  and  flow. 
The  grander  sweep  of  tides  serene 

Our  spirits  yearn  to  know  ! 


Prayer. 


That  which  the  garifli  day  had  lort 

The  twihght  vigil  brings, 
While  softlier  the  vesper  bell 

Its  silver  cadence  rings,  — 
The  sense  of  an  immortal  truft, 

The  brufh  of  angel  wings  ! 

Drop  down  behind  the  solemn  hills, 

O  Day,  with  golden  fkies  ! 
Serene  above  its  fading  glow, 

Night,  ftarry-crowned  arise  ! 
So  beautiful  may  Heaven  be. 

When  Life's  laft  sunbeam  dies  ! 

C.  M.  P. 


I LOVE  to  fteal  awhile  away 
From  every  cumbering  care. 
And  spend  the  hours  of  setting  day 
In  humble,  grateful  prayer. 

I  love  in  solitude  to  fhed 

The  penitential  tear, 
And  all  his  promises  to  plead 

Where  none  but  God  can  hear. 

I  love  to  think  on  mercies  paft, 
And  future  good  implore. 


ii8 


Prayer. 


And  all  my  cares  and  sorrows  caft 
On  Him  whom  I  adore. 

I  love  by  faith  to  take  a  view 

Of  brighter  scenes  in  heaven  ; 
The  prospe6t  doth  my  ftrength  renew, 

While  here  by  tempefts  driven. 

Thus,  when  life's  toilsome  day  is  o'er. 

May  its  departing  ray 
Be  calm  as  this  impreflive  hour, 

And  lead  to  endless  day. 

Mrs.  Broivn. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

THE  (hadows  of  the  evening  hours 
Fall  from  the  darkening  fky  ; 
Upon  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers 

The  dews  of  evening  lie  : 
Before  thy  throne,  O  Lord  of  Heaven, 

We  kneel  at  close  of  day  ; 
Look  on  thy  children  from  on  high. 
And  hear  us  while  we  pray. 

The  sorrows  of  thy  servants,  Lord, 
O  do  not  thou  despise; 


Prayer. 


119 


But  let  the  incense  of  our  prayers 

Before  thy  mercy  rise  j 
The  brightness  of  the  coming  night 

Upon  the  darkness  rolls  : 
With  hopes  of  future  glory  chase 

The  (hadovvs  on  our  souls. 

slowly  the  rays  of  daylight  fade  ; 

So  fade  within  our  heart 
The  hopes  in  earthly  love  and  joy, 

That  one  by  one  depart : 
Slowly  the  bright  ftars,  one  by  one, 

Within  the  heavens  (hine  ;  — 
Give  us,  O  Lord,  frefli  hopes  in  Heaven, 

And  truft  in  things  divine. 

Let  peace,  O  Lord,  thy  peace,  O  God, 

Upon  our  souls  descend  : 
From  midnight  fears  and  perils.  Thou 

Our  trembling  hearts  defend  ; 
Give  us  a  respite  from  our  toil, 

Calm  and  subdue  our  woes  ; 
Through  the  long  day  we  suffer,  Lord, 

O  give  us  now  repose  ! 

Miss  A.  A,  Proaer. 


I20 


Prayer. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

"  Let  my  prayer  be  set  before  thee  as  incense  ;  and  the  lifting  up  of  my  hands 
as  the  evening  sacrifice."  —  Psalm  cxli.  2. 

SWEET  Saviour  !  bless  us  ere  we  go  ; 
Thy  word  into  our  minds  inftil, 
And  make  our  lukewarm  hearts  to  glow 

With  lowly  love  and  fervent  will ; 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

The  day  is  done,  its  hours  are  run, 
And  Thou  haft  taken  count  of  all,  — 

The  scanty  triumphs  grace  hath  won. 
The  broken  vow,  the  frequent  fall  ; 

Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 

O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

Grant  us,  dear  Lord,  from  evil  ways 

True  absolution  and  release. 
And  bless  us  more  than  in  paft  days. 

With  purity  and  inward  peace  ; 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 


Prayer. 


121 


Do  more  than  pardon,  —  give  us  joy, 

Sweet  fear,  and  sober  liberty. 
And  simple  hearts  without  alloy. 

That  only  long  to  be  like  Thee  ; 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

Labor  is  sweet,  for  Thou  haft  toiled. 
And  care  is  light,  for  Thou  haft  cared  : 

Ah !  never  let  our  work  be  soiled 
With  ftrife,  or  bv  deceit  ensnared ; 

Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 

O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

For  those  we  love,  —  the  poor,  the  sad. 

The  finful,  —  unto  Thee  we  call ; 
Oh  !  let  thy  mercy  make  us  glad  ! 

Thou  art  our  Jesus  and  our  all  ; 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

Sweet  Saviour  !  bless  us  ;  night  is  come  ; 

Through  all  its  watches  near  us  be  ; 
Good  angels  watch  about  our  home. 

And  we  are  one  day  nearer  Thee. 
Through  life's  long  day  and  death's  dark  night, 
O  gentle  Jesus,  be  our  light. 

Frederick  Faber. 


122 


Prayer. 


ALL'S  WELL. 

THE  day  is  ended.     Ere  I  fink  to  fleep, 
IVly  wearv  spirit  seeks  repose  in  Thine  ; 
Father  !  forgive  my  trespafles,  and  keep 
This  Httle  Hfe  of  mine. 

With  lo\  ing  kindness  curtain  Thou  my  bed, 
And  cool  in  relt  my  burning  pilgrim  feet; 
Thy  pardon  be  the  pillow  for  my  head,  — 
So  fliall  my  fleep  be  sweet. 

At  peace  with  all  the  world,  dear  Lord,  and  Thee, 

No  fears  my  soul's  unwavering  faith  can  fliake  ; 
All 's  well,  whichever  fide  the  grave  for  me 
The  morning  light  may  break  ! 

H.  McEiven  Kimball. 


NIGHT. 


HEAR  my  prayer,  O  Heavenly  Father, 
Ere  I  lay  me  down  to  fleep  : 
Bid  Thy  angels  pure  and  holy 
Round  my  bed  their  vigil  keep. 


Prayer. 


123 


Great  my  Tins  are,  but  Thy  mercy 

Far  outweighs  them  every  one  ; 
Down  before  Thy  cross  I  caft  them, 

Trufting  in  Thy  help  alone. 

Keep  me  through  this  night  of  peril. 

Underneath  its  boundless  fhade  ; 
Take  me  to  Thy  reft,  I  pray  Thee, 

When  my  pilgrimage  is  made  ! 

None  fhall  measure  out  Thy  patience 

By  the  span  of  human  thought ; 
None  fhall  bound  the  tender  mercies 

Which  Thy  holy  Son  hath  wrought. 

Pardon  all  my  paft  transgreflions  ; 

Give  me  ftrength  for  days  to  come  ; 
Guide  and  guard  me  with  Thy  bleiling 

Till  Thine  angels  bid  me  home  ! 

Thomas  Park.  1797. 


AN  EVENING  SONG. 


LORD,  a  happy  child  of  Thine, 
Patient  in  the  love  of  Thee, 
In  the  light,  the  life  divine. 
Lives  and  walks  at  liberty. 


124 

Prciyn-. 

Leaning  on  Thv  tender  care 

Thou  hall  led  ni\-  soul  ari^xht  ; 
Fer\ ent  was  mv  morning-praver, 
Jo\hil  is  mv  song  to-night. 

O  mv  Sa\ iour,  Guardian  true. 
All  m\-  life  is  Thine  to  keep  ; 

At  Th\-  feet  m\-  work  I  do. 
In  Th\-  arms  I  fall  alleep. 

J.  L.   If  ari)ig. 

WHEN  WE  CANNOT  SLEEP. 

"\  X  THAT  ails  mv  heart,  that  in  m\  breall 

V  V       It  thus  unquiet  lies  ; 
And  that  it  now  of  needful  rell 

Deprives  m\  tired  eves  ? 
Let  not  \ain  hopes,  griefs,  doubts  or  fears, 

Diilemper  so  mv  mind  j 
But  call  on  God  thv  thoughtful  cares, 

And  comfort  thou  llialt  find. 

\i\  vain  that  soul  attempteth  aught. 
And  spends  her  thoughts  in  \ain. 

Who  b\'  or  in  herselt  hath  sou^^ht 
Defired  peace  to  gain. 

Prayer, 


125 


In  vain  as  rifing  in  the  morn 

Before  the  day  appear  ; 
In  vain  to  bed  we  late  return, 

And  He  unquiet  there. 

For  when  of  reft  our  fm  deprives, 

When  cares  do  waking  keep  ; 
'T  is  God,  and  He  alone,  that  gives 

To  His  beloved  fleep. 
On  Thee,  O  Lord  !  on  Thee  therefore, 

My  mufings  now  I  place  : 
Thy  free  remiflion  I  implore. 

And  Thy  refrefhing  grace. 

Forgive  Thou  me,  that  when  my  mind 

Oppressed  begun  to  be, 
I  sought  elsewhere  my  peace  to  find. 

Before  I  came  to  Thee, 
And,  gracious  God  !  vouchsafe  to  grant. 

Unworthy  though  I  am. 
The  needful  reft  which  now  I  want. 

That  I  may  praise  Thy  name. 

George  Wither,     1 64 1. 


126 


Prayer. 


MIDNIGHT. 

AWAKE,  my  soul,  awake  to  prayer  ; 
Thy  vigil  of  the  night  prepare  : 
Now  all  around  is  dark  and  ftill, 
Angels  defending  us  from  ill. 

The  time  to  sacred  thought  is  dear, 
When  Thou  alone,  good  Lord,  art  near  ; 
Huftied  is  the  world's  external  din, 
That  we  may  hear  Thy  voice  within. 

It  seems  to  plead  with  gentle  breath  ; 
Sad  child  of  frailty,  heir  of  death. 
Its  reft  thy  wearied  body  knows  ; 
O,  let  thy  soul  on  me  repose  ! 

I  came  to  suffer  in  thy  ftead ; 
I  had  not  where  to  lay  my  head  : 
Think  on  the  love  that  could  provide 
Bleffings  for  man,  to  me  denied  ! 

Thus  filent  hours  of  darkness  prove 
Remembrancers  of  Jesus'  love  ; 
While  conftancy  in  prayer  we  learn 
From  each  succeeding  night's  return. 


Prayer. 


127 


Day  without  night  the  angels  fing, 
Nor  reft  upon  the  drooping  wing  ; 
Teaching  our  souls  betimes  to  ascend, 
Where  hallelujahs  never  end. 

David  awaked  his  harp  and  voice, 
And  all  within  him,  to  rejoice, 
God's  love  to  praise  at  morning  light. 
And  tell  of  all  His  truth  at  night. 

Jacob  in  prayer  no6turnal  ftrove  ; 

No  ftern  repulse  his  prayer  could  move; 

In  vain  the  angel-man  did  say, 

"  Dismiss  me,  for  't  is  break  of  day  !  " 

See  how,  in  galling  fetters  laid. 
At  midnight  Paul  and  Silas  prayed  ; 
Their  gory  wounds  ftill  smarting  sore, 
And  cold  the  prison's  rugged  floor. 

Thev  sang  the  praises  of  the  Lord  ; 
So  loud  they  sang,  the  prisoners  heard  : 
And  yet  they  thought  that  death  was  nigh  ; 
And  clouds  obscured  their  morning  fky. 

How  ftiall  I  then  Thy  praise  decline. 
When  health  and  friends  and  home  are  mine  ? 
My  dawn  of  day  is  clear  and  calm  ; 
No  foes  oppress,  no  fears  alarm. 


128 


Prayer. 


Are  these  Thy  mercies,  Lord,  to  me  ? 
O,  let  me  then  Thy  servant  be  ! 
Submitting  to  Thy  juft  control. 
And  loving  Thee  with  all  my  soul. 

So  fliall  I  find  Thee  ftrong  to  save. 
When  my  laft  bed  fhall  be  the  grave  ; 
The  grave  fhall  own  my  Saviour's  might. 
And  darkness  vanifh  at  Thy  fight  ! 

Only  my  soul  muft  now  awake 
From  fleep  of  fin  for  Thy  dear  sake  ! 
And  then  my  body  fhall  arise 
From  fleep  of  death  to  yonder  fkies. 

'T  is  there  I  hope  Thy  face  to  see. 
The  crown  of  all  felicity  ; 
'T  is  there  I  hope  that  refl  to  gain, 
Which  here  I  seek,  but  seek  in  vain. 

As  endless  ages  roll  along. 
Endless  fhall  be  my  grateful  song  ; 
And  heaven  itself  fhall  pass  away. 
Before  I  cease  my  vows  to  pay. 

Glory  to  God,  who  Israel  keeps. 
Who  never  flumbers,  never  fleeps  ! 
Almighty  Power  no  weakness  knows  ; 
Unwearied  Love  asks  no  repose. 


Prayer. 


129 


And  now,  my  midnight  mufings  o'er, 
Thy  wonted  mercies.  Lord,  reftore  : 
Let  fleep  again  my  eyelids  fill. 
And  angels  guard  my  soul  from  ill. 

James  Ford,  1856. 


SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT. 

"Tp  WAS  in  the  watches  of  the  night 
J-     I  thought  upon  Thy  power  ; 

I  kept  Thy  lovely  face  in  fight, 
Amid  the  darkeft  hour. 

While  I  lay  refl:ing  on  my  bed. 

My  soul  arose  on  high  ; 
My  God,  my  life,  my  hope,  I  said. 

Bring  thy  salvation  nigh. 

I  ftrive  to  mount  thy  holy  hill  ; 

I  walk  the  heavenly  road  ; 
Thy  glories  all  my  spirit  fill. 

While  I  commune  with  God. 

Thy  mercy  ftretches  o'er  my  head 

The  (hadow  of  thy  wing  ; 
My  heart  rejoices  in  thine  aid. 

And  I  thy  praises  fing. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674- 1748. 


130 


Prayer. 


NIGHT  MUSINGS. 

IN  the  ftill  filence  of  the  voiceless  night, 
When,  chased  by  airy  dreams,  the  flumbers  flee, 
Whom  in  the  darkness  doth  my  spirit  seek, 

O  God,  but  Thee  ? 

And  if  there  be  a  weight  upon  my  breast, 
Some  vague  impreflion  of  the  day  foregone. 
Scarce  knowing  what  it  is,  I  fly  to  Thee, 

And  lay  it  down. 

Or  if  it  be  the  heaviness  that  comes 

In  token  of  anticipated  ill. 

My  bosom  takes  no  heed  of  what  it  is. 

Since  't  is  Thy  will. 

For,  oh  !  in  spite  of  paft  and  present  care. 
Or  anything  befide,  how  joyfully 
Passes  that  almoft  solitary  hour. 

My  God,  with  Thee! 

More  tranquil  than  the  ftillness  of  the  night, 
More  peaceful  than  the  filence  of  that  hour. 
More  blefl:  than  anything,  my  spirit  lies 

Beneath  Thy  power. 


Prayer.  1 3 1 

For  what  is  there  on  earth  that  I  defire, 
Of  all  that  it  can  give  or  take  from  me, 
Or  whom  in  heaven  doth  my  spirit  seek, 

O  God,  but  Thee? 


STAR  of  morn  and  even. 
Sun  of  Heaven's  heaven. 
Saviour  high  and  dear. 
Toward  us  turn  thine  ear  ; 
Through  whate'er  may  come, 
Thou  canft  lead  us  home. 

Though  the  gloom  be  grievous, 
Those  we  leant  on  leave  us. 
Though  the  coward  heart 
Quit  its  proper  part. 
Though  the  Tempter  come, 
Thou  wilt  lead  us  home. 

Saviour  pure  and  holy. 
Lover  of  the  lowly. 
Sign  us  with  thy  fign. 
Take  our  hands  in  thine. 
Take  our  hands  and  come. 
Lead  thy  children  home  ! 


132  Prayer, 

Star  of  morn  and  even 


Shine  on  us  from  Heaven, 
From  thy  glory-throne 
Hear  thy  very  own  ! 
Lord  and  Saviour,  come. 
Lead  us  to  our  home  ! 

F.  T.  Palgrave.  1862. 


AUTHOR  of  good,  to  thee  we  turn  : 
Thine  ever  wakeful  eye 
Alone  can  all  our  wants  discern, 
Thy  hand  alone  supply. 

O,  let  thy  love  within  us  dwell. 

Thy  fear  our  footfteps  guide  ; 
That  love  fhall  vainer  loves  expel, 

That  fear  all  fears  befide. 

And,  O,  by  error's  force  subdued, 

Since  oft,  with  ftubborn  will. 
We  blindly  fhun  the  latent  good. 

And  grasp  the  specious  ill,  — 

Not  what  we  wifh,  but  what  we  want. 

Let  mercy  ftill  supply  : 
The  good  we  alk  not.  Father,  grant  ; 

The  ill  we  afk,  deny. 

Aderrick. 


PRAISE. 


"All  things  are  yours,  ....  things  present."  —  i  Cor.  iii.  21,  22. 

WHILE  toil  and  warfare  urge  us  on  our  way, 
And  heart  is  answering  heart  in  fighs  of  pain 
Have  we  no  words  of  ftrengthening  joy  to  say,  — 
No  songs  for  those  who  suffer  but  to  reign  ^ 

O  for  the  faithful  mind,  the  fteadfaft  eye. 
To  keep  our  Leader's  glory  full  in  fight, 

And  make  our  converse,  even  while  we  die. 
An  interchange  of  triumph  and  delight ! 

Behold,  the  paths  of  life  are  ours,  —  we  see 
Our  bleft  inheritance  where'er  we  tread  ; 

Sorrow  and  danger  our  security. 

And  disappointment  lifting  up  our  head. 

Kings  unto  God,  we  may  not  doubt  our  power. 

We  may  not  languifli  when  He  says,  "Be  ftrong  ! ' 

We  muft  move  on  through  every  adverse  hour. 
And  take  pofTeflion  as  we  pass  along. 


'34 


Praise. 


Yes,  all  is  for  us  ;  nothing  fhall  withftand 
Our  faithful,  valiant,  persevering  claim  \  — 

The  rod  of  God's  Anointed  in  our  hand. 
And  our  alTurance  His  unchanging  name. 

We  need  no  hafte  where  He  has  said,  "  Be  ftill,"  — 
No  peace  where  He  has  charged  us  to  contend  ; 

Only  the  fearless  love  to  do  His  will. 

And  to  (how  forth  His  honor  to  the  end. 

O  ye  that  faint  and  die,  arise  and  live  ! 

Sing,  ye  that  all  things  have  a  charge  to  bless  ! 
If  He  is  faithful  who  hath  sworn  to  give, 

Then  be  ye  also  faithful,  and  pofless. 

Take  thy  whole  portion  with  thy  Mafter's  mind, — 
Toil,  hindrance,  hardness,  with  His  virtue  take,  — 

And  think  how  fliort  a  time  thy  heart  may  find 
To  labor  or  to  suffer  for  His  sake. 

Count  all  the  pains  that  speed  thee  to  thy  reft 
Among  the  riches  of  thy  purchased  right  ; 

Yea,  bind  them  in  His  name  upon  thy  breast, 
As  jewels  for  the  Bride,  the  Lamb's  delight. 

And  love  fhall  teach  us,  while  on  Him  we  lean, 
That,  in  the  certainty  of  coming  bliss. 

We  may  be  yearning  for  a  world  unseen, 
Yet  wear  our  beautiful  array  in  this. 


Praise. 

Ours  be  a  loyal  love  for  service  tried, 

To  (how  by  deeds  and  words,  and  looks 

that  cheer. 

How  He  can  bless  the  scene  in  which  He 

died. 

And  fill  His  house  with  glory  even  here. 

Miss  J,  L, 

W aring. 

TREASURES. 

T    ET  me  count  my  treasures, 
i — ^    All  my  soul  holds  dear, 

Given  me  by  dark  spirits 

Whom  I  used  to  fear. 

Through  long  days  of  anguifh. 
And  sad  nights,  did  Pain 

Forge  my  fliield.  Endurance, 

Bright  and  free  from  ftain  ! 

Doubt,  in  mifty  caverns. 

'Mid  dark  horrors  sought, 

Till  my  peerless  jewel. 
Faith,  to  me  fhe  brought. 

Sorrow,  that  I  wearied 

Should  remain  so  long. 

Wreathed  my  ftarry  glory. 
The  bright  Crown  of  Song. 

1 36  Praise. 

Strife,  that  racked  my  spirit 

Without  hope  or  reft, 
Left  the  blooming  flower. 

Patience,  on  my  breaft. 

Suffering,  that  I  dreaded, 

Ignorant  of  her  charms. 
Laid  the  fair  child.  Pity, 

Smiling,  in  my  arms. 

So  I  count  my  treasures. 
Stored  in  days  long  paft,  — 

And  I  thank  the  givers. 
Whom  I  know  at  laft  ! 

J.  Procter. 


A  THANKSGIVING  FOR  HIS  HOUSE. 

LORD,  Thou  haft  given  me  a  cell. 
Wherein  to  dwell ; 
A  little  house,  whose  humble  roof 

Is  weather  proof ; 
Under  the  spars  of  which  I  lie 

Both  soft  and  dry. 
Where  Thou,  my  chamber  for  to  ward. 
Haft  set  a  guard 


Praise. 


Of  harmless  thoughts,  to  watch  and  keep 

Me  while  I  fleep. 
Low  is  my  porch,  as  is  my  fate. 

Both  void  of  ftate  ; 
And  yet  the  threfhold  of  my  door 

Is  worn  by  the  poor, 
Who  hither  come,  and  freely  get 

Good  words  and  meat. 
Like  as  my  parlor,  so  my  hall, 

And  kitchen  small  ; 
A  little  buttery,  and  therein 

A  little  bin. 
Which  keeps  my  little  loaf  of  bread 

Unchipt,  unflead. 
Some  brittle  sticks  of  thorn  or  brier 

Make  me  a  fire. 
Close  by  whose  living  coal  I  fit, 

And  glow  like  it. 
Lord,  I  confess  too,  when  I  dine, 

The  pulse  is  Thine, 
And  all  those  other  bits  that  be 

There  placed  by  Thee. 
The  worts,  the  purllain,  and  the  mess 

Of  water-cress. 
Which  of  Thy  kindness  Thou  haft  sent : 

And  my  content 
Makes  those  and  my  beloved  beet 

To  be  more  sweet. 
'T  is  Thou  that  crown'ft  my  glittering  hearth 

With  guiltless  mirth. 


138  Praise. 

And  giv'ft  me  waflail-bowls  to  drink, 

Spiced  to  the  brink. 
Lord,  't  is  Thy  plenty-dropping  hand 

That  sows  my  land  : 
All  this,  and  better,  doft  Thou  send 

Me  for  this  end  : 
That  I  fhould  render  for  my  part 

A  thankful  heart, 
Which,  fired  with  incense,  I  refign 

As  wholly  Thine  : 
But  the  acceptance,  —  that  muft  be, 

O  Lord,  by  Thee. 

Robert  Herrick.  1596. 


"AS  STRANGERS  AND  PILGRIMS." 

AS  ftrangers,  —  glad  for  this  good  inn 
Where  nobler  wayfarers  have  been  ; 
Yet  afking  but  a  little  reft  : 
Earth  may  not  keep  her  spirit-gueft. 

As  those  whom  no  entangling  bond 
Muft  draw  from  life  and  love  beyond, 
Strangers  to  all  that  lures  aftray 
From  one  plain  path,  the  homeward  way. 


Praise. 


How  muft  the  pilgrim's  load  be  borne  ? 
With  ftaggering  limbs  and  look  forlorn  ? 
His  Guide  chose  all  that  load  within  ; 
There 's  need  of  everything,  but  fin. 

So  trufting  Him  whose  love  he  knows. 
Singing  along  the  road  he  goes  ; 
And  nightly  of  his  burden  makes 
A  pillow  till  the  morning  breaks. 

How  thinks  the  pilgrim  of  his  way 
As  wanderers  homefick  and  aftray? 
The  ftarlight  and  the  dew  he  sees  ; 
He  feels  the  bleffing  of  the  breeze. 

The  valley-fliades,  how  cool  and  ftill  ! 
What  splendor  from  the  beetling  hill! 
He  longs  to  go,  he  loves  to  flay. 
For  God  is  both  his  Home  and  Way. 

Strangers  to  fin  !  beloved  of  God  ! 
Ye  track  with  heaven-light  earth's  mean  sod  : 
For,  pilgrims  dear,  He  walks  with  you, 
A  Guide  —  but  once  a  Pilgrim  too. 

Lucy  Larcom. 


Praise. 


OUR  TITLES. 

ARE  we  not  Nobles  ?    We  who  trace 
Our  pedigree  so  high 
That  God  for  us  and  for  our  race 

Created  earth  and  fky, 
And  Hght  and  air  and  time  and  space, 
To  serve  us  and  then  die. 

Are  we  not  Princes  ?  we  who  ftand 

As  heirs  befide  the  throne  ; 
We  who  can  call  the  promised  land 

Our  heritage,  our  own  ; 
And  answer  to  no  less  command 

Than  God's,  and  His  alone. 

Are  we  not  Kings  ?  both  night  and  day. 

From  early  until  late, 
About  our  bed,  about  our  way, 

A  guard  of  angels  wait ; 
And  so  we  watch  and  work  and  pray 

In  more  than  royal  state. 

Are  we  not  holy  ?     Do  not  start  : 
It  is  God's  sacred  will 


Praise. 


To  call  us  temples  set  apart 

His  Holy  Ghoft  may  fill : 
Our  very  food  .  .  .  .  O  hufh,  my  heart, 

Adore  IT  and  be  ftiU  ! 

Are  we  not  more  ?  our  life  (hall  be 

Immortal  and  divine. 
The  nature  Mary  gave  to  thee, 

Dear  Jesus,  ftill  is  thine  ; 
Adoring  in  thy  heart,  I  see 

Such  blood  as  beats  in  mine. 

O  God,  that  we  can  dare  to  fail. 

And  dare  to  say  we  muft  ! 
O  God,  that  we  can  ever  trail 

Such  banners  in  the  duft. 
Can  let  such  ftarry  honors  pale. 

And  such  a  blazon  ruft  ! 

Shall  we  upon  such  titles  bring 

The  taint  of  fin  and  fhame  ? 
Shall  we,  the  children  of  the  King, 

Who  hold  so  grand  a  claim, 
Tarnifh  by  any  meaner  thing 

The  glory  of  our  name  ? 

Miss  A,  A,  Proper. 


142 


Praise. 


WHEN  all  Thy  mercies,  O  my  God, 
My  rifing  soul  surveys, 
Transported  with  the  view,  I  'm  loft 
In  wonder,  love,  and  praise. 

Unnumbered  comforts  to  my  soul 

Thy  tender  care  beftowed. 
Before  my  infant  heart  conceived 

From  whence  these  comforts  flowed. 

When  in  the  flippery  paths  of  youth 

With  heedless  fteps  I  ran. 
Thine  arm,  unseen,  conveyed  me  safe. 

And  led  me  up  to  man. 

Through  hidden  dangers,  toils,  and  death, 

It  gently  cleared  my  way  ; 
And  through  the  pleafing  snares  of  vice. 

More  to  be  feared  than  they. 

When  worn  with  fickness,  oft  haft  Thou 
With  health  renewed  my  face  ; 

And,  when  in  fins  and  sorrows  sunk. 
Revived  my  soul  with  grace. 


Praise. 


H3 


Ten  thousand,  thousand  precious  gifts 

My  daily  thanks  employ  ; 
Nor  is  the  leaft  a  cheerful  heart 

That  taftes  those  gifts  with  joy. 

Through  every  period  of  my  life 

Thy  goodness  I  '11  pursue  ; 
And  after  death,  in  diftant  worlds. 

The  glorious  theme  renew  ! 

Joseph  Addison.  1728. 


"Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits." —  Psalm 
ciii.  2. 

MY  soul  repeat  His  praise. 
Whose  mercies  are  so  great  : 
Whose  anger  is  so  flow  to  rise. 
So  ready  to  abate. 


High  as  the  heavens  are  raised 
Above  the  ground  we  tread. 

So  far  the  riches  of  his  grace 
Our  higheft  thoughts  exceed. 

His  power  subdues  our  fins. 
And  his  forgiving  love, 

P'ar  as  the  eaft  is  from  the  weft, 
Doth  all  our  guilt  remove. 


144  Praise. 

The  pity  of  the  Lord 

To  those  that  fear  his  name 

Is  such  as  tender  parents  feel ; 
He  knows  our  feeble  frame. 


Our  days  are  as  the  grass, 
Or  like  the  morning  flower; 

If  one  fharp  blaft  sweeps  o'er  the  field, 
It  withers  in  an  hour. 


But  thy  companions.  Lord, 

To  endless  years  endure  ; 
And  children's  children  ever  find 

Thy  word  of  promise  sure. 

Isaac  Watts,     1674- 1748. 


SEED-TIME  AND  HARVEST. 


COME,  ye  thankful  people,  come. 
Raise  the  song  of  Harveft-Home  ! 
All  is  safely  gathered  in. 
Ere  the  winter-ftorms  begin  ; 
God,  our  Maker,  doth  provide 
For  our  wants  to  be  supplied  ; 
Come  to  God's  own  temple,  come. 
Raise  the  song  of  Harveft-Home  ! 


Praise. 


145 


We  ourselves  are  God's  own  field, 
Fruit  unto  His  praise  to  yield  ; 
Wheat  and  tares  together  sown, 
Unto  joy  or  sorrow  grown  : 
Firft  the  blade,  and  then  the  ear. 
Then  the  full  corn  fhall  appear  : 
Grant,  O  Harveft-Lord,  that  we 
Wholesome  grain  and  pure  may  be  ! 

For  the  Lord  our  God  fhall  come, 
And  fhall  take  His  harveft  home  ! 
From  His  field  fhall  purge  away 
All  that  doth  offend,  that  day  ; 
Give  His  angels  charge  at  lafl 
In  the  fires  the  tares  to  caft. 
But  the  fruitful  ears  to  ftore 
In  His  garner  evermore. 

Then,  thou  Church  triumphant,  come, 

Raise  the  song  of  Harvefl-Home  ! 

All  are  safely  gathered  in. 

Free  from  sorrow,  free  from  fin. 

There  forever,  purified. 

In  God's  garner  to  abide  : 

Come,  ten  thousand  angels,  come. 

Raise  the  glorious  Harveft-Home  ! 

Henry  Alford.     1 845. 

10 


146 


Praise. 


PRAISE  TO  OUR  CREATOR. 

BEFORE  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 
Ye  nations  bow  with  sacred  joy  ; 
Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone  j 
He  can  create  and  He  deftroy. 

His  sovereign  power,  without  our  aid, 
Made  us  of  clay,  and  formed  us  men  ; 

And  when,  like  wandering  (heep,  we  ftrayed. 
He  brought  us  to  His  fold  again. 

We  are  His  people,  we  His  care  ; 

Our  souls,  and  all  our  mortal  frame  : 
What  lafting  honors  fhall  we  rear, 

Almighty  Maker,  to  Thy  name  ? 

We  '11  crowd  Thy  gates,  with  thankful  songs. 
High  as  the  heaven  our  voices  raise  ; 

And  earth,  with  her  ten  thousand  tongues. 
Shall  fill  Thy  courts  with  sounding  praise. 

Wide  as  the  world  is  Thy  command  ; 

Vaft  as  eternity  Thy  love 
Firm  as  a  rock  Thy  truth  fhall  ftand. 

When  rolling  years  fhall  cease  to  move. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674- 1748. 


SELF-EXAMINATION. 


SELF-CONDEMNATION. 

"  If  our  heart  condemn  us,  God  is  greater  than  our  heart,  and  knoweth 
all  things."  —  i  John  iii.  20. 

LORD,  many  times  I  am  a-weary  quite 
Of  my  own  self,  my  fin  and  vanity  ; 
Yet  be  not  Thou,  or  I  am  loft  outright. 

Weary  of  me. 

And  hate  againft  myself  I  often  bear. 

And  enter  with  myself  in  fierce  debate;  — 
Take  Thou  my  part  againft  myself,  nor  ftiare 

In  that  juft  hate. 

Beft  friends  might  loathe  us,  if  what  things  perverse 
We  know  of  our  own  selves  they  also  knew  ;  — 
Lord,  Holy  One  !  if  Thou,  who  knoweft  worse, 

Shouldft  loathe  us  too  ! 

R.  a  Trench. 


148  Self- Examination. 


OFOR  a  closer  walk  with  God, 
A  calm  and  heavenly  frame, 
A  light  to  ftiine  upon  the  road 
That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb  ! 

What  peaceful  hours  I  once  enjoyed  ! 

How  sweet  their  memory  ftill ! 
But  now  I  find  an  aching  void 

The  world  can  never  fill. 

Return,  O  holy  Dove,  return, 

Sweet  meflenger  of  reft  ; 
I  hate  the  fins  that  made  thee  mourn, 

And  drove  thee  from  my  breaft. 

The  deareft  idol  I  have  known, 

Whate'er  that  idol  be. 
Help  me  to  tear  it  from  thy  throne, 

And  worfhip  only  thee. 

So  fhall  my  walk  be  close  with  God, 

Calm  and  serene  my  frame  \ 
So  purer  light  fhall  mark  the  road 

That  leads  me  to  the  Lamb. 

W m .  Cowper.  1779. 

 .  


Self- Examination.  149 


GROWING  IN  GRACE. 


"  But  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Chrift."  —  2  Peter  iii.  i8. 

THIS  did  not  once  so  trouble  me, 
That  better  I  could  not  love  Thee  ; 
But  now  I  feel  and  know, 
That  only  when  we  love,  we  find 
How  far  our  hearts  remain  behind 
The  love  they  fhould  beftow. 

While  we  had  little  care  to  call 

On  Thee,  and  scarcely  prayed  at  all, 

We  seemed  enough  to  pray  ; 
But  now  we  only  think  with  fhame, 
How  seldom  to  Thy  glorious  name 

Our  lips  their  offerings  pay. 

And  when  we  gave  yet  {lighter  heed 
Unto  our  suffering  brother's  need. 

Our  hearts  reproached  us  then 
Not  half  so  much  as  now,  that  we 
With  such  a  careless  eye  can  see 

The  woes  and  wants  of  men. 


150  Self-Examination. 

In  doing  is  this  knowledge  won, 
To  see  what  yet  remains  undone  ; 

With  this  our  pride  repress  ; 
And  give  us  grace,  a  growing  ftore, 
That  day  by  day  we  may  do  more. 

And  may  efteem  it  less. 

R.  a  Trench. 


THE  WORLD. 

"And  when  he  is  come,  he  will  reprove  the  world  of  fin,  and  of  right- 
eousness, and  of  judgment."  —  John  xvi.  8. 

THE  world  is  wise,  for  the  world  is  old  ; 
Five  thousand  years  their  tale  have  told  ; 
Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 
Why  is  it  ?  why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 

The  world  is  kind  if  we  afk  not  too  much  ; 
It  is  sweet  to  the  tafte,  and  smooth  to  the  touch  ; 
Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 
Why  is  it  ?  why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 

The  world  is  ftrong,  with  an  awful  ftrength, 

And  full  of  life  in  its  breadth  and  length  ; 

Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 

Why  is  it  ?  why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 


Self-Examination. 


The  world  is  so  beautiful  one  may  fear 

Its  borrowed  beauty  might  make  it  too  dear  ; 

Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 

Why  is  it  ?  why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 

The  world  is  good  in  its  own  poor  way. 

There  is  reft  by  night  and  high  spirits  by  day  ; 

Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 

Why  is  it  ?  why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 

The  Cross  ftiines  fair,  and  the  church-bell  rings. 
And  the  earth  is  peopled  with  holy  things  ; 
Yet  the  world  is  not  happy,  as  the  world  might  be,  — 
Why  is  it  ?   why  is  it  ?    O,  answer  me  ! 

What  lackeft  thou,  world  ?  for  God  made  thee  of  old 
Why,  —  thy  faith  hath  gone  out,  and  thy  love  grown  cold; 
Thou  art  not  happy,  as  thou  mighteft  be. 
For  the  want  of  Chrift's  fimplicity. 

It  is  blood  that  thou  lackeft,  thou  poor  old  world  ! 
Who  ftiall  make  thy  love  hot  for  thee,  frozen  old  world  ? 
Thou  art  not  happy,  as  thou  mighteft  be. 
For  the  love  of  dear  Jesus  is  little  in  thee. 

Poor  world  !   if  thou  craveft  a  better  day. 
Remember  that  Chrift  muft  have  his  own  way  ; 
I  mourn  thou  art  not  as  thou  mighteft  be. 
But  the  love  of  God  would  do  all  for  thee. 

Frederick  Faher. 


152 


Self- Examination, 


"  Thy  people  fhall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  power.  —  Psalm  ex.  3. 

SAVIOUR  !  though  my  rebellious  will 
Has  been,  by  thy  blefl:  power,  renewed  ; 
Yet  in  its  secret  workings  ftill 

How  much  remains  to  be  subdued  ! 

Oft  I  recall,  with  grief  and  fhame. 

How  many  years  their  course  had  run 

Ere  grace  my  murmuring  heart  o'ercame. 
Ere  I  could  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done  !  " 

I  wifhed  a  flowery  path  to  tread. 

And  thought  't  would  safely  lead  to  heaven  ; 
A  lonely  room,  a  suffering  bed. 

These  for  my  training-place  were  given. 

Long  I  refifted,  mourned,  complained, 

Wifhed  any  other  lot  my  own  ; 
Thy  purpose.  Lord,  unchanged  remained,  — 

What  wisdom  planned,  love  carried  on. 

Year  after  year  I  turned  away. 

But  marred  was  every  scheme  I  planned  ; 

Still  the  same  lesson,  day  by  day. 
Was  placed  before  me,  by  thy  hand. 


Self-Examination.  153 

At  length  thy  patient,  wondrous  love. 

Unchanging,  tender,  pitying,  ftrong. 
Availed  that  ftony  heart  to  move, 

Which  had  rebelled,  alas  !  so  long. 

Then  was  I  taught  by  thee  to  say, 

"  Do  with  me  what  to  thee  seems  beft  ; 

Give,  take,  whate'er  thou  wilt  away. 
Health,  comfort,  usefulness,  or  reft. 

"  Be  my  whole  life  in  suffering  spent. 

But  let  me  be  in  suffering  thine  ; 
Still,  O  my  Lord,  I  am  content, 

Thou  now  haft  made  thy  pleasure  mine." 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


"  We  have  need  of  patience,  that  after  ye  have  done  the  will  of  God, 
ye  might  receive  the  promise."  —  Heb.  x.  36, 

AND  is  there  nothing  to  be  done. 
While  here,  on  this  fick  bed,  I  lie  ? 
Should  I  thus  weary  to  be  gone. 

Thus  think,  't  were  better  far  to  die  ? 

Alas  !  that  very  thought  declares 

How  much  remains  unhallowed  ftill ; 

The  soul  which  God  for  heaven  prepares 
Has  loft  her  own  in  His  bleft  will. 


154 


Self-Examination. 


And  if  His  work  of  grace  in  me 

Were  now  wellnigh  consummated, 
Contented,  willing,  fhould  I  be 

To  lie  for  years  on  this  fick  bed. 

f'or  then  my  faith  would  be  so  ftrong. 
Would  bring  my  blessed  Lord  so  near, 

That  days,  weeks,  months,  would  ne'er  seem  long. 
With  such  a  Friend  my  couch  to  cheer. 

Full  many  a  sufferer  there  has  seen 

Such  proofs  of  His  transcendent  worth, 

That  e'en  their  bed  of  pain  has  been 
To  them  a  little  heaven  on  earth. 

O  then,  my  Saviour  !   be  no  more 

Far  from  me  in  my  hour  of  need  ; 
Thou  canft  the  fainting  soul  reftore. 

And  make  the  feeble  ftrong  indeed. 

O,  grant  me  now  that  will  refigned. 
That  patient,  weaned,  obedient  heart. 

That  loving,  peaceful,  heavenly  mind, 
Thy  Spirit  can  alone  impart. 

Let  me  not  languish  e'en  for  home, 

One  wifh,  one  only  wifh,  be  mine  ! 
Each  hour  more  holy  to  become, 

More  fully  and  entirely  Thine  ! 

Charlotte  Elliott. 


Self-Examination. 


^55 


AS  body  when  the  soul  has  fled, 
As  barren  trees,  decayed  and  dead. 
Is  faith,  —  a  hopeless,  lifeless  thing. 
If  not  of  righteous  deeds  the  spring. 

One  cup  of  healing  oil  and  wine. 
One  tear-drop  (bed  on  mercy's  fbrine. 
Is  thrice  more  grateful.  Lord,  to  thee, 
Than  lifted  eye  or  bended  knee. 

In  true  and  heaven-born  faith  we  trace 
The  source  of  every  Chrifl;ian  grace  ; 
Within  the  pious  heart  it  plays, 
A  living  fount  of  joy  and  praise. 

Kind  deeds  of  peace  and  love  betray 
Where'er  the  ftream  has  found  its  way  ; 
But  where  these  spring  not  rich  and  fair. 
The  ftream  has  never  wandered  there. 

Drummond.     1585  -  1649. 


156  Self- Examination. 


BRINGING  OUR  SHEAVES  WITH  US. 


THE  time  for  toil  is  paft,  and  night  is  come,  — 
The  laft  and  saddeft  of  the  harveft  eves  ; 
Worn  out  with  labor  long  and  wearisome, 
Drooping  and  faint  the  reapers  haften  home, 
Each  laden  with  his  fheaves. 

Laft  of  the  laborers,  thy  feet  I  gain. 

Lord  of  the  harveft  !  and  my  spirit  grieves 
That  I  am  burdened  not  so  much  with  grain. 
As  with  a  heaviness  of  heart  and  brain ;  — 
Mafter,  behold  my  ftieaves  ! 

Few,  light,  and  worthless,  —  yet  their  trifling  weight 

Through  all  my  frame  a  weary  aching  leaves  ; 
For  long  I  ftruggled  with  my  hapless  fate. 
And  ftayed  and  toiled  till  it  was  dark  and  late. 
Yet  these  are  all  my  fheaves. 

Full  well  I  know  I  have  more  tares  than  wheat. 

Brambles  and  flowers,  dry  ftalks,  and  withered  leaves ; 
Wherefore  I  blufti  and  weep,  as  at  thy  feet 
I  kneel  down  reverently,  and  repeat, 

Mafter,  behold  my  ftieaves  ! 


Self-Examination.  157 

I  know  these  bloflbms,  cluftering  heavily 

With  evening  dev^^  upon  their  folded  leaves, 
Can  claim  no  value  nor  utility  ;  — 
Therefore  fhall  fragrancy  and  beauty  be 
The  glory  of  my  fheaves. 

So  do  I  gather  ftrength  and  hope  anew, 

For  well  I  know  thy  patient  love  perceives 
Not  what  I  did,  but  what  I  ftrove  to  do  \ 
And,  though  the  full,  ripe  ears  be  sadly  few, 
Thou  wilt  accept  my  fheaves. 

Atlantic  Monthly, 


GOD. 


WHO  BY  SEARCHING  CAN  FIND  OUT  GOD? 

I CANNOT  find  Thee  !    Still  on  reftless  pinion 
My  spirit  beats  the  void  where  Thou  doft  dwell ; 
I  wander  loft  through  all  Thy  vaft  dominion, 
And  ftirink  beneath  Thy  Light  ineffable. 

I  cannot  find  Thee  !    Even  when  moft  adoring 
Before  Thy  ftirine  I  bend  in  lowlieft  prayer, 
Beyond  these  bounds  of  thought,  my  thought,  upsoaring. 
From  furtheft  queft  comes  back  ;  Thou  art  not  there. 

Yet  high  above  the  limits  of  my  seeing. 

And  folded  far  within  the  inmoft  heart. 

And  deep  below  the  deeps  of  conscious  being. 

Thy  splendor  ftiineth  j  there,  O  God  !  Thou  art. 

I  cannot  lose  Thee  !    Still  in  Thee  abiding. 
The  End  is  clear,  how  wide  so  e'er  I  roam  ; 
The  Law  that  holds  the  worlds  my  fteps  is  guiding, 
And  I  muft  reft  at  laft  in  Thee,  my  home. 

Eliza  Scudder. 


God. 


159 


"I  will  put  my  truft  in  him." — Heb.  ii.  13. 

GIVE  to  the  winds  thy  fears  ; 
Hope,  and  be  undismayed  ; 
God  hears  thy  fighs,  and  counts  thy  tears  ; 
God  fhall  lift  up  thy  head. 

Through  waves,  through  clouds  and  ftorms. 

He  gently  clears  thy  way  ; 
Wait  thou  his  time,  so  fhall  the  night 

Soon  end  in  joyful  day. 

He  everywhere  hath  rule. 

And  all  things  serve  his  might ; 

His  every  a61:  pure  bleffing  is, 
His  path  unsullied  light. 

When  He  makes  bare  his  arm. 
What  fhall  his  work  withltand  ? 

When  He  his  people's  cause  defends, 
Who  then  (hall  ftay  his  hand  ? 

Leave  to  his  sovereign  sway 

To  choose  and  to  command  : 
With  wonder  filled,  thou  then  {halt  own 

How  wise,  how  ftrong  his  hand. 


i6o  God. 

Thou  comprehend'ft  him  not  ; 

Yet  earth  and  heaven  tell, 
God  fits  as  sovereign  on  the  throne  : 

He  ruleth  all  things  well. 

Thou  seeft  our  weakness,  Lord, 
Our  hearts  are  known  to  thee  ; 

O,  lift  thou  up  the  finking  hand, 
Confirm  the  feeble  knee  ! 

Let  us,  in  life  or  death. 

Boldly  thy  truth  declare  ; 
And  publifh,  with  our  lateft  breath. 

Thy  love  and  guardian  care. 

Moravian. 


THE  Lord  is  King  !  lift  up  thy  voice, 
O  earth,  and  all  ye  heavens,  rejoice  ! 
From  world  to  world  the  joy  (hall  ring, 
The  Lord  Omnipotent  is  King. 

The  Lord  is  King  !  who  then  fhall  dare 
Refift  His  will,  diftruft  His  care. 
Or  murmur  at  His  wise  decrees. 
Or  doubt  His  royal  promises  ? 


God.  l6l 


The  Lord  is  King!   Child  of  the  duft, 
The  Judge  of  all  the  earth  is  jufl  : 
Holy  and  true  are  all  His  ways  : 
Let  every  creature  speak  His  praise. 

He  reigns  !   ye  saints,  exalt  your  (trains  ; 
Your  God  is  King,  your  Father  reigns  ; 
And  He  is  at  the  Father's  fide. 
The  Man  of  Love,  the  crucified. 

Come,  make  your  wants,  your  burdens  known. 
He  will  present  them  at  the  Throne  ; 
And  angel  bands  are  waiting  there 
His  meflages  of  love  to  bear. 

O,  when  His  wisdom  can  miftake, 
His  might  decay.  His  love  forsake, 
Then  may  His  children  cease  to  fmg. 
The  Lord  Omnipotent  is  King. 

Alike  pervaded  by  His  eye, 

All  parts  of  His  dominion  lie  ; 

This  world  of  ours,  and  worlds  unseen, 

And  then  the  boundary  between. 

One  Lord,  one  empire,  all  secures ; 
He  reigns,  and  life  and  death  are  yours  : 
Through  earth  and  heaven  one  song  fliall  ring. 
The  Lord  Omnipotent  is  King. 

yojiah  Conder.  1856. 


l62 


God. 


SOMETIMES  a  light  surprises 
The  Chriftian  while  He  Tings; 
It  is  the  Lord,  who  rises 

With  healing  in  His  wings  : 
When  comforts  are  declining, 

He  grants  the  soul  again 
A  season  of  clear  (hining 
To  cheer  it  after  rain. 

In  holy  contemplation 

We  sweetly  then  pursue 
The  theme  of  God's  salvation. 

And  find  it  ever  new  : 
Set  free  from  present  sorrow, 

We  cheerfully  can  say. 
E'en  let  the  unknown  morrow 

Bring  with  it  what  it  may. 

It  can  bring  with  it  nothing 

But  He  will  bear  us  through  ; 
Who  gives  the  lilies  clothing 

Will  clothe  His  people  too  ; 
Beneath  the  spreading  heavens 

No  creature  but  is  fed  ; 
And  He,  who  feeds  the  ravens. 

Will  give  His  children  bread. 


God. 


163 


Though  vine  nor  fig-tree  neither 

Their  wonted  fruit  (hall  bear  ; 
Though  all  the  field  (hould  wither, 

Nor  flocks  nor  herds  be  there  ; 
Yet,  God  the  same  abiding. 

His  praise  fhall  tune  my  voice  ; 
For,  while  in  Him  confiding, 

I  cannot  but  rejoice. 

William  Cowper.  1779. 


I  SHALL  NOT  WANT. 


THOU  all-sufficient  One, 
Who  art 
The  chosen  portion  of  my  heart  ! 
Other  rejoicing  need  I  none,  — 
I  can  find  all  in  Thee, 
Thou  chiefeft  good  to  me  ! 
Who  has  Thee  is  satisfied  ; 
Who  by  Thee  doth  flill  abide 
Is  no  more  lonely,  at  Thy  fide. 

To  whom  Thou  dofl  reveal 

Thy  face. 
He  lives  in  joy  in  every  place,  — 
In  everv  time  has  what  he  will. 


164 


God. 


Who  in  his  deep  heart-ground 
To  Thee  is  firmly  bound, 
Still  and  joyful  knows  no  fear. 
Earth  cofts  him  no  bitter  tear,  — 
Earth  grows  dim  when  Thou  art  near. 

O  higheft  joy  of  joy  ! 
True  reft  ! 

Comfort  of  every  aching  breaft  ! 

Whom  can  earth  trouble  and  annoy, 
Whom  Thou  art  near  to  bless, 
Who  does  Thy  love  polTess  ? 

All  I  seek  for  out  of  Thee 

Hindrance  to  my  joy  might  be. 

And  diminifh  peace  in  me. 

Whom  Thou  doft  call  Thy  child, 

Thine  own,  — 
By  all  on  earth  may  be  unknown, 
By  all  on  earth  may  be  reviled  : 

What  then?  if  God  be  his 

He  needs  no  other  bliss. 
If  I  know  that  I  have  Thee, 
Life  and  ftrength  and  joy  may  flee. 
Griefs  may  come,  —  they  move  not  me. 

Come,  O  thou  blefTed  One, 

My  choice  ! 
Now  in  Thy  light  make  me  rejoice,  — 
Come,  fill  the  soul  which  Thou  haft  won. 


God. 


165 


Come,  take  the  whole,  that  I 

To  Thee  may  Hve  and  die. 
I  am  Thine,  O,  be  Thou  mine. 
Until  in  yonder  life  divine 
Thy  face  on  me  (hall  fully  fhine  ! 

Terjieegen.     1 73 1. 


MAJESTY  OF  GOD. 

THE  Lord  descended  from  above, 
And  bowed  the  heavens  moft  high. 
And  underneath  His  feet  He  caft 
The  darkness  of  the  Iky. 

On  cherubim  and  seraphim 

Full  royally  He  rode, 
And  on  the  wings  of  mighty  winds 

Came  flying  all  abroad. 

He  sat  serene  upon  the  floods. 

Their  fury  to  reftrain  ; 
And  He,,  as  sovereign  Lord  and  King 

For  evermore  fhall  reign. 

Sternhold.  1540. 


CHRIST. 


CHRIST'S  MESSAGE. 

HARK  !  the  glad  sound  !  the  Saviour  comes  ! 
The  Saviour  promised  long  ! 
Let  every  heart  prepare  a  throne, 
And  every  voice  a  song. 

On  him  the  Spirit,  largely  poured, 

Exerts  its  sacred  fire  ; 
Wisdom  and  might,  and  zeal  and  love. 

His  holy  breaft  inspire. 

He  comes,  the  prisoner  to  release. 

In  Satan's  bondage  held  ; 
The  gates  of  brass  before  him  burft. 

The  iron  fetters  yield. 

He  comes  from  thickeft  films  of  vice 

To  clear  the  mental  ray. 
And  on  the  eyeballs  of  the  blind 

To  pour  celeftial  day. 


r 


Chriji. 


,67 


He  comes,  the  broken  heart  to  bind, 

The  bleeding  soul  to  cure. 
And  with  the  treasures  of  his  grace 

T'  enrich  the  humble  poor. 

Our  glad  hosannas.  Prince  of  Peace, 

Thy  welcome  fhall  proclaim. 
And  heaven's  eternal  arches  ring 

With  thy  beloved  name.  * 

Philip  Doddridge.  1755. 


JESUS  !   the  very  thought  is  sweet  ; 
In  that  dear  name  all  heart-joys  meet  ; 
But  sweeter  than  the  honey  far 
The  glimpses  of  his  presence  are. 

No  word  is  sung  more  sweet  than  this  ; 
No  name  is  heard  more  full  of  bliss  ; 
No  thought  brings  sweeter  comfort  nigh, 
Than  Jesus,  Son  of  God,  moft  high. 

Jesus,  the  hope  of  souls  forlorn  ! 
How  good  to  them  for  fin  that  mourn  ; 
To  them  that  seek  Thee,  O  how  kind  ! 
But  what  art  Thou  to  them  that  find  ? 


68 


Chrift. 


No  tongue  of  mortal  can  express, 
No  letters  write  its  blefledness  ; 
Alone,  who  hath  Thee  in  his  heart 
Knows,  love  of  Jesus,  what  Thou  art. 

O  Jesus,  King  of  wondrous  might ; 
O  vi6tor,  glorious  from  the  fight ; 
Sweetness  that  may  not  be  exprefled, 
And  altogether  lovelieft  ! 

St.  Bernard.  1153. 


THE  COMFORTER. 


I LOOK  to  Thee  in  every  need. 
And  never  look  in  vain  ; 
I  feel  Thy  ftrong  and  tender  love. 

And  all  is  well  again  : 
The  thought  of  Thee  is  mightier  far 
Than  fin  and  pain  and  sorrow  are. 

Discouraged  in  the  work  of  life. 

Disheartened  by  its  load. 
Shamed  by  its  failures  or  its  fears, 

I  fink  befide  the  road ;  — 
But  let  me  only  think  of  Thee, 
And  then  new  heart  springs  up  in  me. 


Chriji. 


Thy  calmness  bends  serene  above, 

My  reftleflness  to  ftill  ; 
Around  me  flows  Thy  quickening  life, 

To  nerve  my  faltering  will  ; 
Thy  presence  fills  my  solitude  ; 
Thy  providence  turns  all  to  good. 

Embosomed  deep  in  Thy  dear  love. 

Held  in  Thy  law,  I  ftand  ; 
rhy  hand  in  all  things  I  behold. 

And  all  things  in  Thy  hand  ; 
Thou  leadeft  me  by  unsought  ways. 
And  turn'ft  my  mourning  into  praise. 

Hymns  of  the  Spirit. 


"CLING  TO  THE  MIGHTY  ONE." 

CLING  to  the  Mighty  One,  Ps.  Ixxxix.  19. 

Cling  in  thy  grief;  Heb.  xii.  11. 

Cling  to  the  Holy  One,  Heb.  i.  22. 

He  gives  relief;  Ps.  cxvi.  9. 

Cling  to  the  Gracious  One,  Ps.  cxvi.  5. 

Cling  in  thy  pain  ,  Ps.  Iv.  4. 

Cling  to  the  Faithful  One,  i  Thess.  v.  24. 

He  will  suftain.  Ps.  xxviii.  8. 


Cling  to  the  Living  One, 
Cling  in  thy  woe, 


Heb.  vii.  25. 
Ps.  Ixxxvi.  7. 


170 


Chriji. 


Cling  to  the  Living  Une 

I  John  IV.  ID. 

Through  all  below  ; 

Rom.  viii.  38,  39 

Cling  to  the  Pardoning  One, 

Is.  iv.  7. 

He  speaketh  peace  ; 

John  XIV.  27. 

Cling  to  the  Healing  One, 

Exod.  XV.  26. 

Anguish  shall  cease. 

rs.  cxviii.  3. 

L-lmg  to  the  Dleeding  Une, 

I  John  1.  7. 

Cling  to  his  side  ; 

John  XX.  27. 

Cling  to  the  Risen  Une, 

Kom.  VI.  9. 

in  0 1  III  dDiue  , 

JOIIII     XV.  ^. 

Cling  to  the  Coming  One, 

Rev.  xxii.  20. 

Hope  fhall  arise  ; 

Titus  ii.  13. 

Cling  to  the  Reigning  One, 

Ps.  xcvii.  I. 

Joy  lights  thine  eyes. 

Ps.  xvi.  II. 

"A  refuge  from  the  ftorm,  a  fnadow  from  the  heat,  &c."  —  Isaiah  xxv.  4. 

JESUS  !   lover  of  my  soul. 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly. 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll. 

While  the  tempeft  ftill  is  nigh  ! 
Hide  me,  O  my  Saviour !  hide, 
Till  the  ftorm  of  life  is  paft  ; 
Safe  into  the  haven  guide  ; 
O,  receive  my  soul  at  laft ! 


Chriji. 


171 


Other  refuge  have  I  none  ; 

Hangs  my  helpless  soul  on  Thee  ! 
Leave,  ah  !  leave  me  not  alone, 

Still  support  and  comfort  me  ! 
All  my  truft  on  Thee  is  flayed  ; 

All  my  help  from  Thee  I  bring ; 
Cover  my  defenceless  head 

With  the  fhadow  of  thy  wing  ! 

Wilt  Thou  not  regard  my  call  ? 

Wilt  Thou  not  accept  my  prayer  ? 
Lo  !  I  fmk,  I  faint,  I  fall  ! 

Lo  !  on  Thee  I  caft  my  care  ! 
Reach  me  out  thy  gracious  hand  ! 

While  I  of  thy  flrength  receive. 
Hoping  againft  hope  I  ftand, 

Dying,  and  behold  I  live  ! 

Thou,  O  Chrift,  art  all  I  want  ; 

More  than  all  in  Thee  I  find  ; 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint. 

Heal  the  fick,  and  lead  the  blind  ! 
Just  and  holy  is  thy  name, 

I  am  all  unrighteousness  ; 
P'alse  and  full  of  fin  I  am. 

Thou  art  full  of  truth  and  grace. 

Plenteous  grace  with  Thee  is  found, — 
Grace  to  cover  all  my  fm  ; 


172  Chrift. 

Let  the  healing  ftreams  abound, 
Make  and  keep  me  pure  within. 

Thou  of  life  the  fountain  art  ; 
Freely  let  me  take  of  Thee  ; 

Spring  Thou  up  within  my  heart ; 
Rise  to  all  eternity. 

Charles  Wejley.  1740. 


LOST  BUT  FOUND. 

I WAS  a  wandering  (heep, 
I  did  not  love  the  fold  ; 
I  did  not  love  my  Shepherd's  voice, " 

I  would  not  be  controlled. 
I  was  a  wayward  child, 

I  did  not  love  my  home, 
I  did  not  love  my  Father's  voice, 
I  loved  afar  to  roam. 

The  Shepherd  sought  his  ftieep, 

The  Father  sought  his  child, 
They  followed  me  o'er  vale  and  hill, 

O'er  deserts  wafte  and  wild. 
They  found  me  nigh  to  death, 

Famifhed,  and  faint,  and  lone  ; 
They  bound  me  with  the  bands  of  love. 

They  saved  the  wandering  one. 


Chr'lji. 


173 


They  spoke  in  tender  love, 

They  raised  my  drooping  head  ; 
They  gently  closed  my  bleeding  wounds, 

My  fainting  soul  they  fed. 
They  wafhed  my  filth  away. 

They  made  me  clean  and  fair  ; 
They  brought  me  to  my  home  in  peace,  — 

The  long-sought  wanderer  ! 

Jesus  my  Shepherd  is, 

'T  was  He  that  loved  my  soul, 
'T  was  He  that  wafhed  me  in  his  blood, 

'T  was  He  that  made  me  whole. 
'T  was  He  that  sought  the  loft. 

That  found  the  wandering  ftieep, 
'T  was  He  that  brought  me  to  the  fold, 

'T  is  He  that  ftill  doth  keep. 

I  was  a  wandering  ftieep, 

I  would  not  be  controlled  : 
But  now  I  love  my  Shepherd's  voice, 

I  love,  I  love  the  fold  ! 
I  was  a  wayward  child, 

I  once  preferred  to  roam  : 
But  now  I  love  my  leather's  voice, 

I  love,  I  love  his  home  ! 

H.  Bonar.  i860. 


174 


Chrift. 


THOU  art  the  Way  ;  and  he  who  fighs. 
Amid  this  ftarless  wafte  of  woe, 
To  find  a  pathway  to  the  (kies, 

A  light  from  heaven's  eternal  glow, 
By  Thee  muft  come,  thou  Gate  of  love. 

Through  which  the  saints  undoubting  trod, 
Till  faith  discovers,  like  the  dove, 
An  ark,  a  refting-place  in  God. 

Thou  art  the  Truth,  whose  fteady  day 

Shines  on  through  earthly  blight  and  bloom 
The  pure,  the  everlafting  Ray, 

The  Lamp  that  ftiines  e'en  in  the  tomb  ; 
The  Light  that  out  of  darkness  springs. 

And  guideth  those  that  blindly  go  ; 
The  Word  whose  precious  radiance  flings 

Its  luflre  upon  all  below. 

Thou  art  the  Life,  the  bleffed  Well 

With  living  waters  gufhing  o'er. 
Which  those  that  drink  fhall  ever  dwell 

Where  fin  and  thirft  are  known  no  more. 
Thou  art  the  myftic  Pillar  given. 

Our  Lamp  by  night,  our  Light  by  day  ; 
Thou  art  the  sacred  Bread  from  heaven  ; 

Thou  art  the  Life,  the  Truth,  the  Way. 


THE   HOLY  SPIRIT. 


COME,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove, 
With  all  thy  quickening  powers. 
Kindle  a  flame  of  sacred  love 
In  these  cold  hearts  of  ours. 

In  vain  we  tune  our  formal  songs. 

In  vain  we  ftrive  to  rise ; 
Hosannas  languifh  on  our  tongues, 

And  our  devotion  dies. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove, 

With  all  thy  quickening  powers; 
Come,  fhed  abroad  a  Saviour's  love. 

And  that  (hall  kindle  ours. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674- 1748. 


176 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


COME,  MIGHTY  SPIRIT. 

COME,  mighty  Spirit,  penetrate 
This  heart  and  soul  of  mine  ; 
And  my  whole  being  with  thy  grace 
Pervade,  O  Life  divine  ! 

As  this  clear  air  surrounds  the  earth, 

Thy  grace  around  me  roll ; 
As  the  frefh  light  pervades  the  air, 

So  pierce  and  fill  my  soul. 

As  from  these  clouds  drops  down  in  love 

The  precious  summer  rain, 
So  from  thyself  pour  down  the  flood 

That  frefhens  all  again. 

As  these  fair  flowers  exhale  their  scent 

In  gladness  at  our  feet. 
So  from  thyself  let  fragrance  breathe. 

More  heavenly  and  more  sweet. 

Thus  life  within  our  lifeless  hearts 

Shall  make  its  glad  abode  ; 
And  we  fhall  (bine  in  beauteous  light. 

Filled  with  the  light  of  God. 

H.  Bonar.  i860. 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


^11 


VENI  SANCTE  SPIRITUS. 

COME,  Holy  Spirit  !  from  the  height, 
Of  heaven  send  down  Thy  blefled  light  ! 
Come,  Father  of  the  friendless  poor  ! 
Giver  of  gifts,  and  Light  of  hearts. 
Come  with  that  unction  which  imparts 
Such  consolations  as  endure. 

The  Soul's  Refrefliment  and  her  Gueft, 
Shelter  in  heat,  in  labor  Reft, 

The  sweeteft  Solace  in  our  woe  ! 
Come,  blissful  Light  !   O  come  and  fill. 
In  all  Thy  faithful,  heart  and  will. 

And  make  our  inward  fervor  glow. 

Where  Thou  art.  Lord  !  there  is  no  ill. 
For  evil's  self  Thy  light  can  kill. 

O  let  that  light  upon  us  rise. 
Lord  !   heal  our  wounds,  and  cleanse  our  ftains. 
Fountain  of  grace  !  and  with  thy  rains 

Our  barren  spirits  fertilize. 

Bend  with  Thy  fires  our  ftubborn  will, 
And  quicken  what  the  world  would  chill, 
And  homeward  call  the  feet  that  ftray  : 


178 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


Virtue's  reward,  and  final  grace, 
The  Eternal  vifion  face  to  face. 
Spirit  of  Love  !   for  these  we  pray. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit  !   bid  us  live  ; 
To  those  who  truft  Thy  mercy  give 

Joys  that  through  endless  ages  flow  : 
Thy  various  gifts,  foretaftes  of  heaven, 
Those  that  are  named  Thy  sacred  Seven, 

On  us,  O  God  of  love,  beftow. 

Frederick  Faher.  1856. 


HOLY  COMMUNION. 


THEY  talked  of  Jesus  as  they  went  ; 
And  Jesus,  all  unknown. 
Did  at  their  fide  himself  present 

With  sweetness  all  his  own. 
Swift  as  He  oped  the  sacred  word, 

His  glory  they  discerned  ; 
And  swift,  as  his  dear  voice  they  heard. 
Their  hearts  within  them  burned. 

He  would  have  left  them,  but  that  they 
With  prayers  his  love  afi^ailed  : 

"  Depart  not  yet  !  a  little  ftay  !  " 
They  prefixed  Him,  and  prevailed. 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


And  Jesus  was  revealed,  as  there 

He  bleffed  and  brake  the  bread  : 

But,  while  they  marked  his  heavenly  air. 

The  matchless  Gueft  had  fled. 

And  thus  at  times,  as  Chriftians  talk 

Of  Jesus  and  his  word. 
He  joins  two  friends  amidft  their  walk. 

And  makes,  unseen,  a  third. 
And  O  how  sweet  their  converse  flows  ! 

Their  holy  theme  how  clear  ! 
How  warm  with  love  each  bosom  glows. 

If  Jesus  be  but  near  ! 

And  they  that  woo  his  vifits  sweet. 

And  will  not  let  Him  go. 
Oft,  while  his  broken  bread  they  eat. 

His  soul-felt  presence  know  : 
His  gathered  friends  He  loves  to  meet. 

And  fill  with  joy  their  faith. 
When  they  with  melting  hearts  repeat 

The  memory  of  his  death. 

But  such  sweet  vifits  here  are  brief ; 

Dispensed  from  ftage  to  fi:age 
(A  cheering  and  a  prized  relief) 

Of  faith's  hard  pilgrimage. 
There  is  a  scene  where  Jesus  ne'er. 

Ne'er  leaves  his  happy  guefl:s  ; 
He  spreads  a  ceaseless  banquet  there. 

And  love  (till  fires  their  breafts. 

Thomas  Grinfield.     1 836. 


i8o 


The  Holy  Spirit. 


CANA.  • 

DEAR  Friend,  whose  presence  in  the  house, 
Whose  gracious  word  benign. 
Could  once  at  Cana's  wedding  feaft 
Turn  water  into  wine, — 

Come  vifit  us,  and  when  dull  work 

Grows  weary,  line  on  line. 
Revive  our  souls,  and  make  us  see 

Life's  water  glow  as  wine. 

Gay  mirth  fhall  deepen  into  joy. 

Earth's  hopes  fhall  grow  divine, 
When  Jesus  vifits  us,  to  turn 

Life's  water  into  wine. 

The  social  talk,  the  evening  fire. 

The  homely  household  (hrine. 
Shall  glow  with  angels'  vifits  when 

The  Lord  pours  out  the  wine  ! 

For  when  self-seeking  turns  to  love. 
Which  knows  not  mine  and  thine, 

The  miracle  again  is  wrought, 
And  water  changed  to  wine. 

Rev.  Jas.  F.  Clarke.  1856. 


LOVE. 


GLORY  TO  GOD  ALONE. 

O LOVED  !   but  not  enough,  though  dearer  far 
Than  self  and  its  moft  loved  enjoyments  are  ; 
None  duly  loves  Thee,  but  who,  nobly  free 
From  sensual  objects,  finds  his  all  in  Thee. 

Glory  of  God  !  thou  ftranger  here  below, 
Whom  man  nor  knows,  nor  feels  a  wifh  to  know  j 
Our  faith  and  reason  are  both  (hocked  to  find 
Man  in  the  poft  of  honor.  Thee  behind. 

My  soul  !   reft  happy  in  thy  low  eftate. 
Nor  hope  nor  wifh  to  be  efteemed  or  great  : 
To  take  the  impreffion  of  a  Will  Divine, 
Be  that  thy  glory,  and  those  riches  thine. 

Confess  Him  righteous  in  his  juft  decrees. 

Love  what  He  loves,  and  let  his  pleasures  please  ; 

Die  daily;  from  the  touch  of  fin  recede; 

Then  thou  haft  crowned  Him,  and  He  reigns  indeed. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648- 1717. 


l82 

Love. 

A  LITTLE  BIRD  I  AM. 

Composed  in  Prison. 

A   LITTLE  bird  I  am, 

1  jL    bhut  rrom  the  nelds  or  air  ; 

And  in  my  cage  I  fit  and  fing 

To  Him  who  placed  me  there ; 

Well  pleased  a  prisoner  to  be, 

Because,  my  God,  it  pleases  Thee. 

Naught  have  I  else  to  do  ; 

I  fing  the  whole  day  long  ; 

AlTT               1                            ATI  1 

And  He  whom  molt  1  love  to  please 

Doth  liften  to  my  song  ; 

He  caught  and  bound  my  wanderinp;  wins;. 

But  ftill  He  bends  to  hear  me  fing. 

1  hou  halt  an  ear  to  hear, 

A  heart  to  love  and  bless  ; 

And  though  my  notes  were  e'er  so  rude. 

1  hou  wouldit  not  hear  the  less  ; 

Because  Thou  knoweft,  as  they  fall. 

That  love,  sweet  love,  inspires  them  all. 

My  cage  confines  me  round  ; 

Abroad  I  cannot  fly  ; 

Love,  183 

But  though  my  wing  is  closely  bound, 

My  heart  's  at  liberty. 
My  prison  walls  cannot  control 
The  flight,  the  freedom,  of  the  soul. 

O,  it  is  good  to  soar 

These  bolts  and  bars  above. 
To  Him  whose  purpose  I  adore. 

Whose  providence  I  love  ; 
And  in  Thy  mighty  will  to  find 
The  joy,  the  freedom,  of  the  mind. 

Madame  Guy  on.     1 648  -  1 7 1 7 . 


PRISONS  DO  NOT  EXCLUDE  GOD. 
In  Prison. 


TRONG  are  all  the  walls  around  me. 
That  hold  me  all  the  day  ; 


But  they  who  thus  have  bound  me 

Cannot  keep  God  away  : 
My  very  dungeon  walls  are  dear. 
Because  the  God  I  love  is  here. 

They  know,  who  thus  oppress  me, 
'T  is  hard  to  be  alone  ; 


Love, 


But  know  not  One  can  bless  me 

Who  comes  through  bars  and  stone  : 
He  makes  my  dungeon's  darkness  bright. 
And  fills  my  bosom  with  delight. 

Thy  love,  O  God  !   reftores  me 

From  fighs  and  tears  to  praise  ; 
And  deep  my  soul  adores  Thee, 

Nor  thinks  of  time  or  place  : 
I  afk  no  more,  in  good  or  ill, 
But  union  with  Thy  holy  will. 

'T  is  that  which  makes  my  treasure, 

'T  is  that  which  brings  my  gain  \ 
Converting  woe  to  pleasure. 

And  reaping  joy  from  pain. 
O,  't  is  enough,  whate'er  befall. 
To  know  that  God  is  All  in  All. 

Madame  Guy  on.     1 648  -  1717. 


LOVE  CONSTITUTES  MY  CRIME. 
In  Prison. 

LOVE  conftitutes  my  crime  ; 
For  this  they  keep  me  here, 
Imprisoned  thus  so  long  a  time 
For  Him  I  hold  so  dear ; 


Love. 


185 


And  yet  I  am,  as  when  I  came, 
The  subje6l  of  this  holy  flame. 

How  can  I  better  grow  ! 

How  from  my  own  heart  fly  ! 
Those  who  imprison  me  fhould  know 

True  love  can  never  die. 
Yea,  tread  and  crufh  it  with  disdain, 
And  it  will  live  and  burn  again. 

And  am  I  then  to  blame  ? 

He 's  always  in  my  fight ; 
And  having  once  inspired  the  flame. 

He  always  keeps  it  bright. 
For  this  they  smite  me  and  reprove, 
Because  I  cannot  cease  to  love. 

What  power  fhall  dim  its  ray. 

Dropped  burning  from  above  ! 
Eternal  Life  fhall  ne'er  decay  ; 

God  is  the  life  of  love. 
And  when  its  source  of  life  is  o'er. 
And  only  then,  't  will  fhine  no  more. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648 -1717. 


i86 


Love. 


1 


THE  ACQUIESCENCE  OF  PURE  LOVE. 
In  Prison. 

LOVE  !   if  thy  deftined  sacrifice  am  I, 
Come,  flay  thy  vi6lim,  and  prepare  thy  fires  ; 
Plunged  in  thy  depths  of  mercy,  let  me  die 
The  death  which  every  soul  that  lives  defires. 

I  watch  my  hours,  and  see  them  fleet  away  ; 
The  time  is  long  that  I  have  languifhed  here  j 
Yet  all  my  thoughts  thy  purposes  obev, 
With  no  reluilance,  cheerful  and  fincere. 

To  me  't  is  equal,  whether  love  ordain 
My  life  or  death,  appoint  me  pain  or  ease  ; 
Mv  soul  perceives  no  real  ill  in  pain  ; 
In  ease  or  health  no  real  good  fhe  sees. 

One  good  (he  covets,  and  that  good  alone, 
To  choose  thy  will,  from  selfifh  bias  free  ; 
And  to  prefer  a  cottage  to  a  throne. 
And  grief  to  comfort,  if  it  pleases  Thee. 

That  we  fhould  bear  the  cross  is  thy  command. 
Die  to  the  world,  and  live  to  self  no  more  ; 
Suffer,  unmoved,  beneath  the  rudeft  hand  ; 
When  (hipwrecked  pleased  as  when  upon  the  fhore. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648- 171 7. 


Love, 


187 


/ 

THE  LIGHT  ABOVE  US. 

THERE  is  a  light  in  yonder  (kies, 
A  light  unseen  by  outward  eyes  ; 
But  clear  and  bright  to  inward  sense 
It  fhines,  the  ftar  of  Providence. 

The  radiance  of  the  central  throne. 
It  comes  from  God,  and  God  alone  ;  — 
The  ray  that  never  yet  grew  pale. 
The  ftar  that  "fhines  within  the  veil." 

And  faith,  unchecked  by  earthly  fears. 
Shall  lift  its  eye,  though  filled  with  tears. 
And  while  around  't  is  dark  as  night, 
Untired,  (hall  mark  that  heavenly  light. 

In  vain  they  smite  me.    Men  but  do 
What  God  permits  with  different  view;  — 
To  outward  fight  they  wield  the  rod. 
But  faith  proclaims  it  all  of  God. 

Unmoved,  then,  let  me  keep  my  way  ; 
Supported  by  that  cheering  ray 
Which,  fhining  diftant,  renders  clear 
The  clouds  and  darkness  thronging  near. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648- 1717. 


i88 


Love, 


FOREST  HYMN. 

HERE,  sweetly  forgetting  and  wholly  forgot 
By  the  world  and  its  turbulent  throng, 
The  birds  and  the  ftream  lend  me  many  a  note 
That  aids  meditation  and  song. 

Ye  desolate  scenes,  to  your  solitude  led, 

My  life  I  in  praises  employ. 
And  scarce  know  the  source  of  the  tears  that  I  fhed. 

Whether  springing  from  sorrow  or  joy. 

Though  awfully  filent,  and  fliaggy  and  rude, 
I  am  charmed  with  the  peace  ye  afford  ; 

Your  (hades  are  a  temple  where  none  will  intrude. 
The  abode  of  my  Lover  and  Lord. 

Ah,  send  me  not  back  to  the  race  of  mankind. 

Perversely  by  folly  beguiled  ; 
For  where  in  the  crowds  I  have  left  ftiall  I  find 

The  spirit  and  heart  of  a  child  ? 

Here  let  me,  though  fixed  in  a  desert,  be  free, 

A  little  one  whom  they  despise  ; 
Though  loft  to  the  world,  if  in  union  with  Thee, 

I  am  holy,  and  happy,  and  wise. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648- 17 17. 


r 


Love. 


DIVINE  CONSOLATIONS. 

MY  heart  is  easy  and  my  burden  light  ; 
I  smile,  though  sad,  when  God  is  in  my  fight  ; 
The  more  my  woes  in  secret  I  deplore, 
I  tafte  thy  goodness,  and  I  love  Thee  more. 

There,  while  a  solemn  ftillness  reigns  around. 
Faith,  love,  and  hope  within  my  soul  abound  ; 
And  while  the  world  suppose  me  loft  in  care, 
The  joys  of  angels  unperceived  I  fhare. 

Thy  creatures  wrong  thee,  O  thou  Sovereign  Good  ! 
Thou  art  not  loved,  because  not  underftood  ; 
This  grieves  me  moft,  that  vain  pursuits  beguile 
Ungrateful  men,  regardless  of  thy  smile. 

Frail  beauty  and  false  honor  are  adored. 

While  Thee  they  scorn,  and  trifle  with  thy  word  ; 

Pass,  unconcerned,  a  Saviour's  sorrows  by. 

And  hunt  their  ruin  with  a  zeal  to  die. 

Madame  Guy  on.     1 648  -  1 7 1 7 . 


190 


Love, 


RESIGNATION. 


I PLACE  an  offering  at  Thy  fhrine, 
From  taint  and  blemifh  clear, 
Simple  and  pure  in  its  defign, 
Of  all  that  I  hold  dear. 


I  yield  Thee  back  thy  gifts  again, 

Thy  gifts  which  moft  I  prize  ; 
Defirous  only  to  retain 

The  notice  of  thine  eyes. 

But  if  bv  thine  adored  decree 

That  blelTing  be  denied, 
Refigned,  and  unreluclant,  see 

My  every  wifh  subfidc. 

Thy  will  in  all  things  I  approve. 

Exalted  or  caft  down  ; 
Thy  will  in  every  ftate  I  love. 

And  even  in  thy  frown. 

Madame  Guy  on.     1648-  1 71 7. 


Love. 


191 


LOVE. 

YES  !   I  will  always  love  ;  and,  as  I  ought, 
Tune  to  the  praise  of  love  my  ceaseless  voice  j 
Preferring  love,  too  vaft  for  human  thought, 

In  spite  of  erring  men,  who  cavil  at  my  choice. 

Why  have  I  not  a  thousand,  thousand  hearts. 
Lord  of  my  soul!  that  they  might  all  be  thine? 

If  thou  approve,  —  the  zeal  thy  smile  imparts, 

How  (hould  it  ever  fail  ?    Can  such  a  fire  decline  ? 

Love,  pure  and  holy,  is  a  deathless  fire  ; 

Its  object  heavenly,  it  muft  ever  blaze  ; 
Eternal  love  a  God  muft  needs  inspire. 

When  once  he  wins  the  heart  and  fits  it  for  his  praise. 

Self-love  dismiffed,  —  't  is  then  we  live  indeed  ; 

In  her  embrace,  death,  only  death  is  found  ; 
Come  then,  one  noble  effort,  and  succeed, 

Caft  off  the  chain  of  self  with  which  thy  soul  is  bound. 

O,  I  would  cry,  that  all  the  world  might  hear. 
Ye  self-tormenters,  love  your  God  alone  ; 

Let  his  unequalled  excellence  be  dear, 

Dear  to  your  inmoft  souls,  and  make  him  all  your  own. 

Madame  Guyon.  1648-1717. 


Love. 


JOY  IN  THE  CROSS. 

LONG  plunged  in  sorrow,  I  refign 
My  soul  to  that  dear  hand  of  Thine, 
Without  reserve  or  fear  ; 
That  hand  fhall  wipe  my  ftreaming  eyes. 
Or  into  smiles  of  glad  surprise 
Transform  the  falling  tear. 

My  sole  pofleflion  is  Thy  love  ; 
In  earth  beneath  or  heaven  above, 

I  have  no  other  ftore  ; 
And  though  with  fervent  suit  I  pray, 
And  importune  Thee  night  and  day, 

I  a(k  Thee  nothing  more. 

My  rapid  hours  pursue  the  course 
Prescribed  them  by  love's  sweeteft  force. 

And  I  Thy  sovereign  will, 
Without  a  wifh  to  'scape  my  doom  ; 
Though  ftill  a  sufferer  from  the  womb, 

And  doomed  to  suffer  ftill. 

By  Thy  command,  whene'er  I  ftray. 
Sorrow  attends  me  all  my  way, 
A  never-failing  friend  ; 


Love. 


And,  if  my  sufferings  may  augment 
Thy  praise,  behold  me  well  content. 
Let  Sorrow  ftill  attend  ! 

It  cofts  me  no  regret,  that  (he 

Who  followed  Chrift  fhould  follow  me 

And  though,  where'er  (he  goes. 
Thorns  spring  spontaneous  at  her  feet, 
I  love  her,  and  extrail  a  sweet 

From  all  her  bitter  woes. 

Adieu!  ye  vain  delights  of  earth, 
Infipid  sports  and  childifh  mirth, 

I  tafte  no  sweets  in  you  ; 
Unknown  delights  are  in  the  cross; 
All  joy  befide  to  me  is  dross. 

And  Jesus  thought  so  too. 

The  Cross  !  O  ravifhment  and  bliss,  — 
How  grateful  e'en  its  anguifli  is. 

Its  bitterness  how  sweet  ! 
There  every  sense,  and  all  the  mind. 
In  all  her  faculties  refined, 

Tafte  happiness  complete. 

Souls,  once  enabled  to  disdain 
Base,  sublunary  joys,  maintain 

Their  dignity  secure  ; 
The  fever  of  desire  is  pafled. 
And  love  has  all  its  genuine  tafte, 

Is  delicate  and  pure. 


194 


Love. 


Self-love  no  grace  in  Sorrow  sees. 
Consults  her  own  peculiar  ease  ; 

'T  is  all  the  bliss  (he  knows  ; 
But  nobler  aims  true  Love  employ, 
In  self-denial  is  her  joy, 

In  suffering  her  repose. 

Sorrow  and  Love  go  fide  by  side  ; 
Nor  height  nor  depth  can  e'er  divide 

Their  heaven-appointed  bands  ; 
Those  dear  afTociates  ftill  are  one. 
Nor  till  the  race  of  life  is  run 

Disjoin  their  wedded  hands. 

Jesus,  avenger  of  our  fall. 
Thou  faithful  lover,  above  all 

The  cross  have  ever  borne  ! 
O  tell  me  —  life  is  in  thy  voice  — 
How  much  affli£lions  were  thy  choice, 

And  lloth  and  ease  thy  scorn  ! 

Thy  choice  and  mine  fhall  be  the  same, 
Inspirer  of  that  holy  flame. 

Which  muft  forever  blaze  ! 
To  take  the  cross  and  follow  Thee, 
Where  love  and  duty  lead,  {hall  be 

My  portion  and  my  praise. 

Madame  Guy  on .     1 648  -  1 7 1 7 . 


Love, 


DIVINE  ADOPTION. 

HOW  happy  are  the  new-born  race, 
Partakers  of  adopting  grace  ! 
How  pure  the  bliss  they  fhare  ! 
Hid  from  the  world  and  all  its  eyes, 
Within  their  heart  the  bleffing  lies, 
And  conscience  feels  it  there. 

The  moment  we  believe,  't  is  ours  ; 
And  if  we  love  with  all  our  powers 

The  God  from  whom  it  came. 
And  if  we  serve  with  hearts  fincere, 
'T  is  ftill  discernible  and  clear 

An  undisputed  claim. 

But  ah  !  if  foul  and  wilful  fin 
Stain  and  dishonor  us  within. 

Farewell  the  joy  we  knew  ; 
Again  the  flaves  of  nature's  sway. 
In  lab'rinths  of  our  own  we  ftray. 

Without  a  guide  or  clew. 

The  chafte  and  pure,  who  fear  to  grieve 
The  gracious  Spirit  they  receive. 
His  work  diftin6lly  trace. 


196 


Love. 


And,  ftrong  in  undiflembling  love, 
Boldly  affert  and  clearly  prove 
Their  hearts  his  dwelling-place. 

O  meflenger  of  dear  delight, 

Whose  voice  dispels  the  deepeft  night, 

Sweet  peace-proclaiming  Dove  ! 
With  thee  at  hand  to  soothe  our  pains, 
No  wifti  unsatisfied  remains. 

No  tafk  but  that  of  love. 

'T  is  love  unites  what  fin  divides  ; 
The  centre  where  all  bliss  refides  ; 

To  which  the  soul  once  brought. 
Reclining  on  the  firft  great  Cause, 
From  his  abounding  sweetness  draws 

Peace  pafling  human  thought. 

Sorrow  foregoes  its  nature  there. 
And  life  affumes  a  tranquil  air. 

Diverted  of  its  woes  ; 
There,  sovereign  goodness  soothes  the  breaft, 
Till  then  incapable  of  reft. 

In  sacred,  sure  repose. 

Madame  Guy  on.     1 648  -  1 7 1 7  • 


Love. 


GOD'S  GLORY  AND  GOODNESS. 


ALMIGHTY  Former  of  this  wondrous  plan, 
Faintly  reflected  in  thine  image,  man  ; 
Holy  and  juft  !  the  greatness  of  whose  name 
Fills  and  supports  this  universal  frame  ! 

Diffused  throughout  infinitude  of  space, 
Who  art  thyself  thine  own  vafl  dwelling-place  j 
Soul  of  our  soul !  whom  yet  no  sense  of  ours 
Discerns,  eluding  our  moft  adlive  powers  ;  — 

Encircling  fhades  attend  thine  awful  throne. 
That  veil  thy  face,  and  keep  Thee  ftill  unknown  ; 
Unknown,  though  dwelling  in  our  inmofl  part. 
Lord  of  the  thoughts,  and  sovereign  of  the  heart. 

Thou  art  my  bliss  !  the  light  by  which  I  move  ! 
In  Thee,  O  God  !   dwells  all  that  I  can  love. 
Where'er  I  turn,  I  see  thy  power  and  grace, 
Which  ever  watch,  and  bless  our  heedless  race. 

O,  then  repeat  the  truth  that  never  tires  ; 
No  God  is  like  the  God  my  soul  defires  ; 
He  at  whose  voice  heaven  trembles,  even  He, 
Great  as  He  is,  knows  how  to  ftoop  to  me. 


Love. 


Vain  pageantry  and  pomp  of  earth,  adieu  ! 
I  have  no  willi,  no  memory  for  you  ! 
Rich  in  God's  love,  I  feel  my  nobleft  pride 
Spring  from  the  sense  of  having  naught  befide. 

Madame  Guyon.     1648- 1717. 


ENTIRE  SUBMISSION. 

GOD'S  ways  are  not  as  our  u^ays.  His  thoughts  are 
not  as  ours; 

He  wounds  us  sore  with  cruel  thorns,  where  we  have 

ftooped  for  flowers  ; 
But  oh  !  't  is  from  the  oft-pierced  heart  those  precious 

drops  diftil. 

That  many  a   life,  else  all  unbleft,  with   healing  balm 
fhall  fill  ; 

Then  give,  O  give  the  flower  to  those  who  prav  it  so 
•  may  be. 

But   I  would  choose  to  have  the  thorns,  with  Thee, 
dear  Lord,  with  Thee  ! 

Man  judgeth  man  in  ignorance,  he  seeth  but  in  part; 
Our  truit  is  in  our  Maker,  God,  who  searcheth  every 
heart  ; 

And  every  wrong  and  every  woe,  when  put  beneath  our 
feet. 

As  ftepping-ftones  may  help  us  on  to  His  high  mercy- 
seat. 


Love. 


199 


Then  teach  us  ftill  to  smile,  O  Lord  !  though  (harp  the 

ftones  may  be, 
Remembering  that   they  bring  us  near  to  Thee,  dear 

Lord,  to  Thee  ! 

Mift-veiled  and  rough  the  path  we  tread,  e'er  haunted 
as  we  go 

With  piteous  fights  of  wretchedness,  and  piteous  sounds 
of  woe  ; 

And  eagerly  for  happiness  we  look  on  either  fide, 
To  find  all  pleasures  time  can  give  leave  us  unsatisfied ; 
O   make  me   of  those   blefl'ed   ones   from  earth's  vain 
troubles  free, 

Whose  conftant   souls  reft   every   hope  in  Thee,  dear 
Lord,  in  Thee  ! 

So  bitter  is  the  cup  of  life,  we  fain  would  drink  no  more. 
"  O  let  the  cup  but  pass  from  me  ! "  in  anguifh  we  im- 
plore ; 

But  days  and  months  and  years  roll  on,  and  lo !   't  is 

afked  at  length, 
When  was  it  that   our  souls  put  on  '  new   majefty  and 

ftrength  ? 

All  is  revealed,  the  Marah-draught  no  longer  we  would 
flee ; 

'T  is  held  in  wisdom  to  our  lips  by  Thee,  dear  Lord, 
by  Thee  ! 

Our  neareft  and  our  deareft  go,  — go  from  us  one  by  one  ; 
Where  now  are  those  who  walked  with  us  'neath  youth's 
unclouded  sun  ? 


200 


Love. 


Sadder  than  separation,  sadder  than  death,  came  change, 
And  our  once  blooming  Paradise  is  now  a  desert  ftrange ; 
Yet  in  this  desolation,  I  afk  but  faith  to  see 
That  nothing-  can  divide  us  now  from  Thee,  dear  Lord, 
from  Thee  ! 


NEARER,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  ! 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me  ; 
Still  all  my  song  (hall  be. 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

Though  like  the  wanderer, 

The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  reft  a  ftone  ; 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I  'd  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

There  let  the  way  appear 

Steps  unto  Heaven  ; 
All  that  Thou  send'ft  to  me 

In  mercy  given  ; 


Love. 


201 


Angels  to  beckon  me 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 
Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

Then  with  my  waking  thoughts 

Bright  with  Thy  praise. 
Out  of  my  ftony  griefs 

Bethel  I  '11  raise  ; 
So  by  my  woes  to  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

Or  if  on  joyful  wing 

Cleaving  the  fky. 
Sun,  moon,  and  ftars  forgot. 

Upwards  I  fly. 
Still  all  my  song  {hall  be. 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee  ! 

Sarah  F.  Adams.  1848. 


THOUGH  some  good  things  of  lower  worth 
iVIy  heart  is  called  on  to  refign, 
Of  all  the  gifts  in  heaven  and  earth. 
The  greateft  and  the  beft  is  mine  : 


202  Love. 

The  love  of  God  in  Chrift  made  known, — 
The  love  that  is  enough  alone, 
My  Father's  love  is  all  my  own. 

My  soul's  Reftorer,  let  me  learn 

In  that  deep  love  to  live  and  reft,  — 

Let  me  the  precious  thing  discern 
Of  which  I  am  indeed  pofleffed. 

My  treasure  let  me  feel  and  see, 

And  let  my  moments,  as  they  flee. 

Unfold  my  endless  life  in  Thee. 

Let  me  not  dwell  so  much  within 

My  bounded  heart,  with  anxious  heed. 
Where  all  my  searches  meet  with  fin. 

And  nothing  satisfies  my  need. 
It  fhuts  me  from  the  sound  and  fight 
Of  that  pure  world  of  life  and  light, 
Which  has  no  breadth  or  length  or  height. 

Let  me  Thy  power.  Thy  beauty  see  ; 

So  fhall  the  hopeless  labor  cease. 
And  my  free  heart  fhall  follow  Thee 

Through  paths  of  everlafting  peace. 
My  ftrength  Thy  gift,  —  my  life  Thy  care, — 
I  ftiall  forget  to  seek  elsewhere 
The  wealth  to  which  my  soul  is  heir. 

I  was  not  called  to  walk  alone, 

To  clothe  myself  with  love  and  light  ; 


Love. 


203 


And  for  Thy  glorv,  not  my  own, 

My  soul  is  precious  in  Thy  fight. 
My  evil  heart  can  never  be 
A  home,  a  heritage  for  me,  — 
But  Thou  canft  make  it  fit  for  Thee. 

Miss  A,  L.  Waring.  1862. 


MY  heart  is  refting,  O  my  God,  — 
I  will  give  thanks  and  fing  ; 
My  heart  is  at  the  secret  source 

Of  every  precious  thing. 
Now  the  frail  vefTel  Thou  haft  made 

No  hand  but  Thine  can  fill,  — 
For  the  waters  of  the  earth  have  failed, 
And  I  am  thirfty  ftill. 

I  thirft  for  springs  of  heavenly  life. 

And  here  all  day  they  rise  ; 
I  seek  the  treasure  of  Thy  love, 

And  close  at  hand  it  lies. 
And  a  new  song  is  in  mv  mouth. 

To  long-loved  mufic  set,  — 
Glorv  to  Thee  for  all  the  grace 

I  have  not  tafted  yet. 


204 


Love. 


Glory  to  Thee  for  ftrength  withheld, 

For  want  and  weakness  known, — 
And  the  fear  that  sends  me  to  Thy  breaft 

For  what  is  moft  my  own. 
I  have  a  heritage  of  joy 

That  yet  I  muft  not  see  ; 
But  the  hand  that  bled  to  make  it  mine 

Is  keeping  it  for  me. 

There  is  a  certainty  of  love 

That  sets  my  heart  at  reft,  — 
A  calm  afTurance  for  to-day 

That  to  be  poor  is  beft,  — 
A  prayer  repofing  on  His  truth 

Who  hath  made  all  things  mine. 
That  draws  my  captive  will  to  Him, 

And  makes  it  one  with  Thine. 

I  will  give  thanks  for  suffering  now. 

For  want  and  toil  and  loss, — 
For  the  death  that  fin  makes  hard  and  flow. 

Upon  my  Saviour's  cross. 
Thanks  for  the  little  spring  of  love 

Xhat  gives  me  ftrength  to  say. 
If  they  will  leave  me  part  in  Him, 

Let  all  things  pass  away. 

Miss  A.  L.  Waring.  1862. 


Love. 


205 


"  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfeft  peace  whose  mind  is  ftayed  on  Thee  : 
because  he  trufteth  in  Thee."  —  Isa,  xxvi.  3. 

OTHIS  is  bleffing,  this  is  reft! 
Into  thine  arms,  O  Lord,  I  flee  : 
I  hide  me  in  thy  faithful  breaft, 
And  pour  out  all  my  soul  to  Thee. 
There  is  a  hoft  difluading  me,  — 
But,  all  their  voices  far  above, 
I  hear  thy  vi^ords, — "O  tafte  and  see 
The  comfort  of  a  Saviour's  love." 
And,  hufhing  every  adverse  sound, 
Songs  of  defence  my  soul  surround, 
As  if  all  saints  encamped  about 
One  trufting  heart,  pursued  by  doubt. 

And  O  how  solemn,  yet  how  sweet, 
Their  one  aflured,  persuafive  ftrain  ! 
"The  Lord  of  Hofts  is  thy  retreat. 
The  Man  who  bore  thy  fin,  thy  pain. 
Still  in  his  hand  thy  times  remain,  — 
Still  of  his  body  thou  art  part  ; 
And  he  will  prove  his  right  to  reign 
O'er  all  things  that  concern  thy  heart." 

0  tenderness,  O  truth  divine  ! 
Lord,  I  am  altogether  thine. 

1  have  bowed  down,  —  I  need  not  flee,  — 
Peace,  peace  is  mine  in  trufting  Thee. 


206 


Love, 


1 

1 


And  now  I  count  supremely  kind 
The  rule  that  once  I  thought  severe, 
And  precious  to  my  altered  mind 
At  length  thy  leall:  reproofs  appear. 
Now  to  the  love  that  cafts  out  fear 
Mercy  and  truth  indeed  seem  one  ; 
Why  fhould  I  hold  mv  ease  so  dear  ? 
The  work  of  training  muft  be  done. 
I  muft  be  taught  what  I  would  know 
I  muft  be  led  where  I  would  go, 
And  all  the  reft  ordained  for  me. 
Till  that  which  is  not  seen  I  see. 
Is  to  be  found  in  trufting  Thee. 

Miss  A.  L.  Waring. 


Psalm  xiii.  7,  8. 

GO  not  far  from  me,  O  my  Strength, 
Whom  all  my  times  obey  ; 
Take  from  me  anything  Thou  wilt. 

But  go  not  Thou  away,  — 
And  let  the  ftorm  that  does  Thy  work 
Deal  with  me  as  it  may. 


On  Thy  compaffion  I  repose. 
In  weakness  and  diftress  : 


Love. 


207 


I  will  not  afk  for  greater  ease, 

Left  I  fhould  love  Thee  less. 
O,  't  is  a  blefled  thing  for  me 

To  need  Thy  tenderness. 

While  many  sympathizing  hearts 

For  my  deliverance  care, 
Thou,  in  Thy  wiser,  ftronger  love. 

Art  teaching  me  to  bear,  — 
By  the  secret  voice  of  thankful  so 

And  calm,  confiding  prayer. 

Thy  love  has  many  a  lighted  path 

No  outward  eye  can  trace. 
And  my  heart  sees  Thee  in  the  deep 

With  darkness  on  its  face. 
And  communes  with  Thee,  'mid  the  ftorm. 

As  in  a  secret  place. 

O  Comforter  of  God's  redeemed, 
Whom  the  world  does  not  see. 

What  hand  fhould  pluck  me  from  the  flood 
That  cafts  my  soul  on  Thee  ? 

Who  would  not  suffer  pain  like  mine, 
To  be  consoled  like  me  ? 

When  I  am  feeble  as  a  child. 

And  flefh  and  heart  give  way. 
Then  on  Thy  everlafting  ftrength 

With  paflive  truft  I  ftay. 


208 


Love. 


And  the  rough  wind  becomes  a  song, 
The  darkness  fhines  like  day. 

0  blefled  are  the  eyes  that  see, 
Though  filent  anguifh  fhow 

The  love  that  in  their  hours  of  fleep 
Unthanked  may  come  and  go, 

And  blefled  are  the  ears  that  hear, 
Though  kept  awake  by  woe. 

Happy  are  they  that  learn,  in  Thee, 
Though  patient  suffering  teach. 

The  secret  of  enduring  flrength. 
And  praise  too  deep  for  speech,  — 

Peace  that  no  prefllire  from  without. 
No  fl:rife  within,  can  reach. 

There  is  no  death  for  me  to  fear. 
For  Chrift,  my  Lord,  hath  died  ; 

There  is  no  curse  in  this  my  pain. 
For  he  was  crucified  ; 

And  it  is  fellowjhip  with  him 
That  keeps  me  near  his  fide. 

My  heart  is  fixed,  O  God,  my  flrrength, 
My  heart  is  fl:rong  to  bear  ; 

1  will  be  joyful  in  Thy  love, 
And  peaceful  in  Thy  care. 

Deal  with  me,  for  my  Saviour's  sake. 
According  to  his  prayer. 


Love, 


209 


No  suffering  while  it  lafts  is  joy, 

How  bleft  soe'er  it  be,  — 
Yet  may  the  chaftened  child  be  glad 

His  Father's  face  to  see  ; 
And  O  it  is  not  hard  to  bear 

What  muft  be  borne  in  Thee. 

It  is  not  hard  to  bear  by  faith 

In  Thy  own  bosom  laid 
The  trial  of  a  soul  redeemed, 

For  Thy  rejoicing  made. 
Well  may  the  heart  in  patience  reft, 

That  none  can  make  afraid. 

Safe  in  Thy  san6lifying  grace, 

Almighty  to  reftore,  — 
Borne  onward,  fin  and  death  behind. 

And  love  and  life  before,  — 
O  let  my  soul  abound  in  hope. 

And  praise  Thee  more  and  more  ! 

Deep  unto  deep  may  call,  but  I 

With  peaceful  heart  will  say,  — 
Thy  loving-kindness  hath  a  charge 

No  waves  can  take  away  ; 
And  let  the  ftorm  that  speeds  me  home 

Deal  with  me  as  it  may. 

Miss  A.  L.  Waring, 


14 


210 


Love. 


LOVE  TO  MY  LORD. 

"Let  us  lift  up  our  heart  with  our  hands  unto  God  in  the  heavens."  — 
Lam.  iii.  41. 

"  T  T  AD  I  a  thousand  hearts,  I 'd  raise 
1  1   Them  all  in  my  Redeemer's  praise," 

We  sometimes  cry  ; 
And  ftill  we  find  it  hard  to  give 
Our  one  poor  offering,  and  live 

As  He  were  by  ! 

O  pureft,  trueft,  boundless  love  ! 
Worthy  of  Him  who  reigns  above,  — 

Our  heavenly  guide  ! 
He  takes  the  heart  we  fain  would  give, 
He  deigns  in  it  himself  to  live, 

With  us  to  'bide. 

Tune,  Lord,  this  heart  as  'twere  a  lyre 
Of  heavenly  make,  till  every  wire 

And  every  chord 
Wake  but  one  ftrain,  —  one  deepeft  thrill, 
Long,  louder,  sweeter,  fuller  ftill,  — 

Love  to  my  Lord  ! 

From  Louisa  von  Plettenhaus. 


Love, 


211 


HAD  I  the  tongues  of  Greeks  and  Jews, 
And  nobler  speech  than  angels  use, 
If  love  be  absent,  I  am  found. 
Like  tinkling  brass,  an  empty  sound. 

Were  I  inspired  to  preach  and  tell 
All  that  is  done  in  heaven  and  hell,  — 
Or  could  my  faith  the  world  remove,  — 
Still  I  am  nothing  without  love. 

Should  I  diftribute  all  my  ftore 

To  feed  the  hungry,  clothe  the  poor,  — 

Or  give  my  body  to  the  flame, 

To  gain  a  martyr's  glorious  name, — 

If  love  to  God  and  love  to  men 
Be  absent,  all  my  hopes  are  vain  ; 
Nor  tongues,  nor  gifts,  nor  fiery  zeal. 
The  work  of  love  can  e'er  fulfil. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674- 1748. 


212 


Love. 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

MY  God  !   Thv  boundless  love  I  praise  ; 
How  bright  on  high  its  glories  blaze  ! 
How  sweetly  bloom  below  ! 
It  ftreams  from  Thine  eternal  throne  ; 
Through  heaven  its  joys  forever  run, 
And  o'er  the  earth  they  flow. 

'T  is  love  that  paints  the  purple  morn, 
And  bids  the  clouds,  in  air  upborne. 

Their  genial  drops  diflil  ; 
In  every  vernal  beam  it  glows. 
And  breathes  in  every  gale  that  blows. 

And  glides  in  every  rill. 

But  in  Thy  word  I  see  it  (bine 
With  grace  and  glories  more  divine, 

Proclaiming  fins  forgiven  ; 
There,  Faith,  bright  cherub,  points  the  way 
To  realms  of  everlafling  day. 

And  opens  all  her  heaven. 

Then  let  the  love,  that  makes  me  bleft, 
With  cheerful  praise  inspire  my  breafi:. 
And  ardent  gratitude  ; 


Love. 


213 


And  all  my  thoughts  and  paflions  tend 
To  Thee,  my  Father  and  my  Friend, 
My  soul's  eternal  good. 

Henry  Moore.  1806. 


GOD  OUR  SHEPHERD. 

THE  Lord  my  pafture  fhall  prepare, 
And  feed  me  with  a  (hepherd's  care  ; 
His  presence  (hall  my  wants  supply. 
And  guard  me  with  a  watchful  eye  : 
My  noonday  walks  He  fhall  attend. 
And  all  my  midnight  hours  defend. 

When  in  the  sultry  glebe  I  faint, 
Or  on  the  thirfty  mountain  pant, 
To  fertile  vales  and  dewy  meads 
My  weary,  wandering  fteps  He  leads, 
Where  peaceful  rivers,  soft  and  flow, 
Amid  the  verdant  landscape  flow. 

Though  in  a  bare  and  rugged  way. 
Through  devious,  lonely  wilds  I  ftray. 
Thy  bounty  fhall  my  pains  beguile  ; 
The  barren  wilderness  fhall  smile, 
With  sudden  greens  and  herbage  crowned. 
And  flreams  fhall  murmur  all  around. 


214 


Love. 


Though  in  the  paths  of  death  I  tread, 
With  gloomy  horrors  overspread, 
My  fteadfaft  heart  (hall  fear  no  ill. 
For  Thou,  O  Lord  !  art  with  me  ftill  ; 
Thy  friendly  crook  fhall  give  me  aid. 
And  guide  me  through  the  dreadful  fhade. 

Joseph  Addison.  1728. 


SOWING  AND  REAPING. 
They  that  sow  in  tears  fhall  reap  in  joy."  —  Psalm  cxxvi.  5. 

SOW  with  a  generous  hand  ; 
Pause  not  for  toil  or  pain  ; 
Weary  not  through  the  heat  of  summer. 

Weary  not  through  the  cold  spring  rain  ; 
But  wait  till  the  autumn  comes. 
For  the  (heaves  of  golden  grain. 

Scatter  the  seed,  and  fear  not, — 

A  table  will  be  spread  ; 
What  matter  if  you  are  too  weary 

To  eat  your  hard-earned  bread  ? 
Sow  while  the  earth  is  broken, 

For  the  hungry  muft  be  fed. 

Sow  ;  —  while  the  seeds  are  lying 
In  the  warm  earth's  bosom  deep. 


Love, 


215 


And  your  warm  tears  fall  upon  it, 
They  will  ftir  in  their  quiet  fleep, 

And  the  green  blades  rise  the  quicker, 
Perchance,  for  the  tears  you  weep. 

Then  sow,  —  for  the  hours  are  fleeting. 
And  the  seed  muft  fall  to-day. 

And  care  not  what  hands  fhall  reap  it, 
Or  if  you  fhall  have  pafled  away 

Before  the  waving  cornfields 
Shall  gladden  the  sunny  day. 

Sow,  —  and  look  onward,  upward. 
Where  the  ftarry  light  appears, 

Where,  in  spite  of  the  coward's  doubting. 
Or  your  own  heart's  trembling  fears. 

You  fhall  reap  in  joy  the  harveft 
You  have  sown  to-day  in  tears. 

Miss  A.  A,  Procter, 


A  DESIRE. 


OTO  have  dwelt  in  Bethlehem 
When  the  ftar  of  the  Lord  fhone  bright  ! 
To  have  fheltered  the  holy  wanderers 
On  that  blelTed  Chriftmas  night  ! 


2l6  Love. 


To  have  kifled  the  tender,  way-worn  feet 

Of  the  Mother  undefiled, 
And,  with  reverent  wonder  and  deep  delight, 

To  have  tended  the  Holy  Child! 

Hufh  !  such  a  glory  was  not  for  thee  ; 

But  that  care  may  ftill  be  thine  ; 
For  are  there  not  little  ones  ftill  to  aid 

For  the  sake  of  the  Child  divine  ? 
Are  there  no  wandering  pilgrims  now, 

To  thy  heart  and  thy  home  to  take  ? 
And  are  there  no  mothers  whose  weary  hearts 

You  can  comfort  for  Mary's  sake  ? 

O  to  have  knelt  at  Jesus*  feet. 

And  to  have  learnt  His  heavenly  lore  ! 
To  have  liftened  the  gentle  leffbns  He  taught 

On  mountain  and  sea  and  fhore  ! 
While  the  rich  and  the  mighty  knew  Him  not, 

To  have  meekly  done  His  will!  — 
Hufh!  for  the  worldly  reje6l  Him  yet, 

You  can  serve  and  love  Him  ftill. 
Time  cannot  filence  His  mighty  words, 

And  though  ages  have  fled  away, 
His  gentle  accents  of  love  divine 

Speak  to  your  soul  to-day. 

O  to  have  solaced  that  weeping  one 
Whom  the  righteous  dared  despise  ! 


r 


Love. 


21'] 


To  have  tenderly  bound  up  her  scattered  hair, 

And  have  dried  her  tearful  eyes  ! 
Hufh  !   there  are  broken  hearts  to  soothe, 

And  penitent  tears  to  dry. 
While  Magdalen  prays  for  you  and  them, 

From  her  home  in  the  ftarry  fky. 

O  to  have  followed  the  mournful  way 

Of  those  faithful  few  forlorn  ! 
And,  grace  beyond  even  an  angel's  hope, 

The  Cross  for  our  Lord  have  borne  ! 
To  have  fhared  in  His  tender  mother's  grief. 

To  have  wept  at  Mary's  fide. 
To  have  lived  as  a  child  in  her  home,  and  then 

In  her  loving  care  have  died  ! 

Hufh  !  and  with  reverent  sorrow  ftill 

Mary's  great  anguifh  (hare  ; 
And  learn,  for  the  sake  of  her  Son  divine. 

Thy  cross,  like  His,  to  bear. 
The  sorrows  that  weigh  on  thy  soul  unite 

With  those  which  thy  Lord  has  borne. 
And  Mary  will  comfort  thy  dying  hour. 

Nor  leave  thy  soul  forlorn. 

O  to  have  seen  what  we  now  adore. 
And,  though  veiled  to  faithless  fight, 

To  have  known,  in  the  form  that  Jesus  wore. 
The  Lord  of  Life  and  Light  ! 


2l8 


Love. 


Hufh  !  for  He  dwells  among  us  ftill, 

And  a  grace  can  yet  be  thine, 
Which  the  scoffer  and  doubter  can  never  know, 

The  Presence  of  the  Divine. 
Jesus  is  with  His  children  yet. 

For  His  word  can  never  deceive  ; 
Go  where  His  lowly  altars  rise. 

And  worfhip,  and  believe. 

Miss  A.  A,  Proper,  1859. 


THE  STRANGER. 


A POOR  wayfaring  Man  of  grief 
Hath  often  croffed  me  on  my  way, 
Who  sued  so  humbly  for  relief. 

That  I  could  never  answer.  Nay. 
I  had  not  power  to  afk  his  name. 
Whither  he  went,  or  whence  he  came. 
Yet  there  was  something  in  his  eye 
That  won  my  love,  I  knew  not  why. 

Once,  when  my  scanty  meal  was  spread, 
He  entered,  —  not  a  word  he  spake,  — 

Juft  perifhing  for  want  of  bread  ; 

I  gave  him  all ;  he  blefled  it,  brake, 


Love,  219 

And  ate,  —  but  gave  me  part  again: 
Mine  was  an  angel's  portion  then  \ 
For  while  I  fed  with  eager  hafte, 
That  cruft  was  manna  to  my  tafte. 

I  spied  him,  where  a  fountain  burft 

Clear  from  the  rock;  his  ftrength  was  gone; 

The  heedless  water  mocked  his  thirft, 
He  heard  it,  saw  it  hurrying  on  : 

I  ran  to  raise  the  sufferer  up  ; 

Thrice  from  the  ftream  he  drained  my  cup, 

Dipt,  and  returned  it  running  o'er  ; 

I  drank,  and  never  thirfted  more. 

'T  was  night  ;  the  floods  were  out  ;  it  blew 

A  winter  hurricane  aloof ; 
I  heard  his  voice  abroad,  and  flew 

To  bid  him  welcome  to  my  roof , 
I  warmed,  I  clothed,  I  cheered  my  gueft, 
Laid  him  on  my  own  couch  to  reft  ; 
Then  made  the  hearth  my  bed,  and  seemed 
In  Eden's  garden  while  I  dreamed. 

Stript,  wounded,  beaten,  nigh  to  death, 

I  found  him  by  the  highway-fide  ; 
I  roused  his  pulse,  brought  back  his  breath, 

Revived  his  spirit,  and  supplied 
Wine,  oil,  refrefhment  ;  he  was  healed  : 
I  had  myself  a  wound  concealed  ; 


220 


Love. 


But  from  that  hour  forgot  the  smart, 
And  peace  bound  up  my  broken  heart 

In  prison  I  saw  him  next,  condemned 
To  meet  a  traitor's  death  at  morn  ; 

The  tide  of  lying  tongues  I  ftemmed, 

And  honored  him  'midft  (hame  and  scorn  ; 

My  friendfhip's  utmoft  zeal  to  try, 

He  alked  if  I  for  him  would  die  ? 

The  flefh  was  weak,  my  blood  ran  chill, 

But  the  free  spirit  cried,     I  will." 

Then  in  a  moment  to  my  view 

The  Stranger  darted  from  disguise  ; 

The  tokens  in  his  hands  I  knew. 
My  Saviour  ftood  before  mine  eyes  ! 

He  spake ;  and  my  poor  name  he  named  : 

"Of  me  thou  haft  not  been  afhamed  ; 

These  deeds  (hall  thy  memorial  be  ; 

Fear  not,  thou  didft  them  unto  me." 

James  Montgomery.  1826. 


QJUIET. 


THE  INNER  CALM 

CALM  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  caln 
While  these  hot  breezes  blow  ; 
Be  like  the  night-dew's  cooling  balm 
Upon  earth's  fevered  brow. 

Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm, 

Soft  refting  on  thy  breaft ; 
Soothe  me  with  holy  hymn  and  psalm, 

And  bid  my  spirit  reft. 

Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm  ; 

Let  thine  outftretched  wing 
Be  like  the  (hade  of  Elim's  palm 

Befide  her  desert  spring. 

Yes,  keep  me  calm,  though  loud  and  rude 
The  sounds  my  ear  that  greet. 

Calm  in  the  closet's  solitude. 
Calm  in  the  buftling  ftreet ; 


222  ^iet. 

Calm  in  the  hour  of  buoyant  health, 

Calm  in  my  hour  of  pain, 
Calm  in  my  poverty  or  wealth. 

Calm  in  my  loss  or  gain  ; 

Calm  in  the  sufferance  of  wrong. 

Like  Him  who  bore  my  fhame. 
Calm  'mid  the  threatening,  taunting  throng, 

Who  hate  Thy  holy  name  ; 

Calm  when  the  great  world's  news  with  power 

My  liftening  spirit  ftir  ; 
Let  not  the  tidings  of  the  hour 

E'er  find  too  fond  an  ear; 

Calm  as  the  ray  of  sun  or  flar 

Which  ftorms  aflail  in  vain. 
Moving  unruffled  through  earth's  war. 

The  eternal  calm  to  gain. 

H,  Bonar.  1856. 


BE  STILL,  AND  KNOW  THAT  I  AM  GOD. 

HE  who  himself  and  God  would  know. 
Into  the  filence  let  him  go. 
And,  lifting  off  pall  after  pall. 
Reach  to  the  inmoft  depth  of  all. 


223 


Let  him  look  forth  into  the  night  ; 
What  solemn  depths,  what  filent  might  ! 
Those  ancient  ftars,  how  calm  they  roll,  — 
He  but  an  atom  'mid  the  whole  ! 

And,  as  the  evening  wind  sweeps  by, 
He  needs  muft  feel  his  God  as  nigh  ; 
Muft  needs  that  unseen  Presence  own, 
Thus  always  near,  too  long  unknown. 

How  small,  in  that  uplifted  hour. 
Temptation's  lure  and  paflion's  power  ! 
How  weak  the  foe  that  made  him  fall. 
How  ftrong  the  soul  to  conquer  all  ! 

A  mighty  mind  of  nobler  will 

Sends  through  his  soul  its  quickening  thrill  ; 

No  more  a  creature  of  the  clod. 

He  knows  himself  a  child  of  God. 

Marline  au. 


HATH  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned 
At  evening's  calm  and  holy  hour, 
As  if  its  inmoft  depths  discerned 
The  presence  of  a  loftier  power  ? 


Haft  thou  not  heard  'mid  foreft  glades, 
While  ancient  rivers  murmured  by, 

A  voice  from  forth  th'  eternal  fhades. 
That  spake  a  present  Deity  ? 

And  as  upon  the  sacred  page 

Thine  eye  in  rapt  attention  turned 

O'er  records  of  a  holier  age. 

Hath  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned  ? 

It  was  the  voice  of  God  that  spake 

In  filence  to  thy  filent  heart. 
And  bade  each  worthier  thought  awake. 

And  every  dream  of  earth  depart. 

Voice  of  our  God,  O  yet  be  near! 

In  low,  sweet  accents  whisper  peace  ; 
Direct  us  on  our  pathway  here. 

Then  bid  in  heaven  our  wanderings  cease. 

Bulfinch. 


I  

224 


FOR  INWARD  PEACE. 


OFOR  a  heart  of  calm  repose 
Amid  the  world's  loud  roar, 
A  life  that  like  a  river  flows 
Along  a  peaceful  fhore  ! 


Come,  Holy  Spirit,  ftill  my  heart 

With  gentleness  divine  ; 
Indwelling  peace  Thou  canft  impart, 

O  make  that  bleffing  mine  ! 

Above  these  scenes  of  ftorm  and  ftrife 
There  spreads  a  region  fair  ; 

Give  me  to  live  that  higher  life, 
And  breathe  that  heavenly  air! 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  breathe  that  peace  ! 

That  victory  make  me  win  ! 
Then  fhall  my  soul  her  conflict  cease. 

And  find  a  heaven  within. 


225 


OPEN,  Lord,  my  inward  ear. 
And  bid  my  heart  rejoice  ; 
Bid  my  quiet  spirit  hear 

The  comfort  of  thy  voice  ; 
Never  in  the  whirlwind  found. 
Or  where  earthquakes  rock  the  place. 
Still  and  filent  is  the  sound. 
The  whisper  of  thy  grace. 

From  the  world  of  fin  and  noise 
And  hurry  I  withdraw  ; 


For  the  small  and  inward  voice 

I  wait  with  humble  awe  ; 
Silent  I  am  now  and  ftill, 
Dare  not  in  thy  presence  move  ; 
To  my  waiting  soul  reveal 

The  secret  of  thy  love. 

Meth.  Coll. 


LET  deepeft  filence  all  around 
Its  peaceful  fhelter  spread  ; 
So  fhall  the  living  word  abound, 
The  word  that  wakes  the  dead. 

How  sweet  to  wait  upon  the  Lord 

In  ftillness  and  in  prayer  ! 
What  though  no  preacher  speak  the  word, 

A  minifter  is  there. 

He  knows  to  bend  the  heart  of  fteel. 

He  bows  the  loftieft  soul  ; 
O'er  all  we  think  and  all  we  feel 

How  matchless  his  control ! 

And  O  how  precious  is  his  love 

In  tender  mercy  given! 
It  whispers  of  the  bleft  above, 

And  ftays  the  soul  on  heaven. 


From  mind  to  mind,  in  ftreams  of  joy, 

The  holy  influence  spreads  ; 
'T  is  peace,  't  is  praise  without  alloy. 

For  God  that  influence  (beds. 

To  Thee,  O  God,  we  ftill  will  pray, 

And  praise  Thee  as  before  ; 
For  this  thy  glorious  Gospel-day 

Teach  us  to  praise  Thee  more. 

J.  J.  Gurney. 


THOU  hidden  Source  of  calm  repose, 
Thou  all-suflicient  Love  divine. 
My  Help  and  Refuge  from  my  foes, 

Secure  I  am  if  thou  art  mine. 
And,  lo  !   from  fin  and  grief  and  fhame 
I  hide  me.  Father,  in  thy  name. 

Thy  mighty  name  salvation  is, 

And  keeps  my  happy  soul  above  ; 

Comfort  it  brings,  and  power  and  peace. 

And  joy  and  everlafting  love  : 
.  To  me,  through  thy  dear  Son,  are  given 

Pardon  and  holiness  and  heaven. 


228  ^iet. 

P'ather,  my  all  in  all  thou  art, 

My  reft  in  toil,  my  ease  in  pain  ; 

The  balm  to  heal  my  broken  heart  ; 
In  ftorms  my  peace,  in  loss  my  gain  ; 

My  joy  beneath  the  worldling's  frown  ; 

In  fhame,  my  glory  and  my  crown  ;  — 

In  want,  my  plentiful  supply  ; 

In  weakness,  my  almighty  power  ; 
In  bonds,  my  perfe6l  liberty  ; 

My  refuge  in  temptation's  hour  ; 
My  comfort  'midft  all  grief  and  pain. 
My  life  in  death,  my  endless  gain. 

C,  Wejley.     1739- 1762. 


THE  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breaft, 
Leaves  there  its  cares,  and  is  at  reft  ; 
The  bird  fits  fmging  by  his  neft. 

And  tells  aloud 
His  truft  in  God,  and  so  is  bleft 
'Neath  every  cloud. 


He  has  no  ftore,  he  sows  no  seed  ; 
Yet  fmgs  aloud,  and  doth  not  heed  ; 


^iet.  229 

By  flowing  ftream  or  graffy  mead, 

He  fings  to  (hame 
Men,  who  forget,  in  fear  of  need, 

A  Father's  name. 

The  heart  that  trufts  forever  fings, 
And  feels  as  hght  as  it  had  wings  ; 
A  well  of  peace  within  it  springs  : 

Come  good  or  ill, 
Whate'er  to-day,  to-morrow  brings, 

It  is  His  will  1 

Isaac  Williams.  1842. 


PSALM  CXXXI. 


QUIET,  Lord,  my  froward  heart  ; 
Make  me  teachable  and  mild, 
Upright,  fimple,  free  from  art ; 

Make  me  as  a  weaned  child  ; 
From  diftruft  and  envy  free, 
Pleased  with  all  that  pleases  Thee. 

What  thou  (halt  to-day  provide. 
Let  me  as  a  child  receive  ; 

What  to-morrow  may  betide. 
Calmly  to  thy  wisdom  leave  ; 


230  ^'let. 

'T  is  enough  that  Thou  wilt  care. 
Why  fhould  I  the  burden  bear  ? 

As  a  little  child  relies 

On  a  care  beyond  his  own, 
Knows  he 's  neither  ftrong  nor  wise. 

Fears  to  ftir  a  ftep  alone  ;  — 
Let  me  thus  with  Thee  abide. 
As  my  Father,  Guard,  and  Guide. 

'John  Newton,  1779. 


O HAPPY  soul  that  lives  on  high, 
While  men  lie  grovelling  here  ! 
His  hopes  are  fixed  above  the  (ky. 
And  faith  forbids  his  fear. 

His  conscience  knows  no  secret  ftings. 
While  grace  and  joy  combine 

To  form  a  life  whose  holy  springs 
Are  hidden  and  divine. 

He  waits  in  secret  on  his  God, 

His  God  in  secret  sees  ; 
Let  earth  be  all  in  arms  abroad. 

He  dwells  in  heavenly  peace. 


^iet,  231 

His  pleasures  rise  from  things  unseen, 

Beyond  this  world  and  time, 
Where  neither  eyes  nor  ears  have  been, 

Nor  thoughts  of  mortals  climb. 

He  wants  no  pomp  nor  royal  throne 

To  raise  his  honors  here  ; 
Content  and  pleased  to  live  unknown. 

Till  Chrift  his  hfe  appear. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674 -1748. 


HIDING  IN  GOD. 
Psalm  xxxi.  20. 

NOT  from  the  work  appointed  us  to  do 
Our  Maker  hides  us  ; 
Not  from  the  suffering  of  mortal  woe, 
That  oft  betides  us  : 

But  whoso  treadeth  where  the  Saviour  trod, 

Where  duty  guideth. 
Fearful  of  nothing  but  the  power  of  God, 

His  Maker  hideth. 


232  ^iet. 

He  walks  amid  the  furnace-fires  alone, 

Yet  well  attended  ; 
f'or  lo  !  there  Hands  befide  him  God's  own  S 

To  earth  descended. 

Thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  smitten  lie 
Breathless  around  him  ; 

Safe  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Moft  High, 
Death  hath  not  found  him. 

Quiet  in  God,  —  the  ever-present  seal 

Of  faith  unspoken,  — 
Believing  faces,  infant  lips,  reveal 

Its  nameless  token  ; 

A  gift  beftowed  upon  the  poor  opprefTed, 

To  kings  forbidden  ; 
Beneath  the  fhadow  of  Thy  wings  to  reft. 

Securely  hidden. 

To  bear  for  them  the  cross,  as  if  for  Thee, 

Strengthen  me  ever  ; 
Among  Thine  hidden  ones,  O  number  me. 

Now  and  forever  ! 


233 


"O  LORD!    HOW  HAPPY  IS   THE  TIME." 

OLORD  !   how  happy  is  the  time 
When  in  Thy  love  I  reft,  — 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  Thy  tender  breaft. 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outfhine  the  sun, 
And  in  Thy  pardon  and  Thy  care 
The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won. 

Let  the  world  call  itself  my  foe. 

Or  let  the  world  allure, 
I  care  not  for  the  world,  —  I  go 

To  this  tried  friend  and  sure. 
And  when  life's  fierceft  ftorms  are  sent 

Upon  life's  wildeft  sea. 
My  little  bark  is  confident 

Because  it  holds  by  Thee. 

When  the  law  threatens  endless  death 

Upon  the  dreadful  hill. 
Straightway  from  its  consuming  breath 

My  soul  mounts  higher  ftill. 
She  haftes  to  Jesus,  wounded,  llain. 

And  finds  in  Him  a  home. 


234  ^iet. 

Whence  fhe  fhall  not  go  forth  again, 
And  where  no  death  can  come. 

I  do  not  fear  the  wilderness 

Where  Thou  haft  been  before  ;  — 
Nay,  rather  would  I  daily  press 

After  Thee,  near  Thee,  more  ! 
Thou  art  my  ftrength  ;  on  Thee  I  lean  ; 

My  heart  Thou  makeft  fing ; 
And  to  Thy  paftures  green  at  length 

Thy  chosen  flock  wilt  bring. 

And  if  the  gate  that  opens  there 

Is  closed  to  other  men. 
Is  it  not  closed  to  those  who  lhare 

The  heart  of  Jesus  then  ? 
That  is  not  lofing  much  of  life 

Which  is  not  lofing  Thee, 
Who  art  as  present  in  the  ftrife 

As  in  the  victory  ! 

Therefore,  how  happy  is  the  time 

When  in  Thy  love  I  reft; 
When  from  my  weariness  I  climb 

E'en  to  Thy  tender  breaft. 
The  night  of  sorrow  endeth  there, 

Thy  rays  outfhine  the  sun, 
And  in  Thy  pardon  and  Thy  care 

The  heaven  of  heavens  is  won. 

From  the  German  of  DreJIer. 


235 

TRUST. 

T  KNOW  not  if  or  dark  or  bright 
X           Shall  be  my  lot ; 
It  that  wherem  my  hopes  delight 
Be  beft,  or  not. 

It  may  be  mine  to  drag  for  years 
Toil's  heavy  chain ; 

Or  day  and  night  my  meat  be  tears 
On  bed  of  pain. 

Dear  faces  may  surround  my  hearth 
With  smiles  and  glee  ; 

/~\       T                   Jill                       J  '^L 

Ur  1  may  dwell  alone,  and  mirth 
Be  ftrange  to  me. 

My  bark  is  wafted  to  the  ftrand 
By  breath  divine  ; 

Ai              111.1                 n  11 

And  on  the  helm  there  relts  a  hand 
Other  than  mine. 

One  who  has  known  in  ftorms  to  sail 

I  have  on  board  ; 
Above  the  raving  of  the  gale^ 

I  hear  my  Lord. 

236  ^iet. 

He  holds  me  when  the  billows  smite, — 

I  (hall  not  fall. 
If  fharp,  'tis  fhort, — if  long,  'tis  light, — 

He  tempers  all. 

Safe  to  the  land,  safe  to  the  land,  — 

The  end  is  this  ; 
And  then  with  Him  go  hand  in  hand 

Far  into  bliss. 

Dean  of  Canterbury. 


REST  IN  THE  LORD. 


MY  God,  in  Thee  all  fulness  lies, 
All  want  in  me  from  Thee  apart ; 
In  Thee  my  soul  hath  endless  joys. 

In  me  is  but  an  aching  heart  ; 
Poor  as  the  pooreft  here  I  pine. 
In  Thee  a  heavenly  kingdom  's  mine. 

Thou  seeft  whatsoe'er  I  need. 
Thou  seeft  it,  and  pitieft  me  ; 

Thy  swift  compaflions  hither  speed. 
Ere  yet  my  woes  are  told  to  Thee  ; 

Thou  heareft.  Father,  ere  we  cry,  — 

Shall  I  not  ftill  before  Thee  lie  ? 


^iet. 


I  leave  to  Thee  whate'er  is  mine, 
And  in  Thy  will  I  calmly  reft  ; 

I  know  that  richeft  gifts  are  Thine, 

Thou  canft  and  Thou  wilt  make  me  bleft, 

For  Thou  haft  promised,  and  our  Lord 

Will  never  break  His  promised  word. 

Thou  loveft  me.  Father,  with  the  love 
Wherewith  Thou  lovedft  Chrift  thy  Son, 

And  so  a  brightness  from  above 

Still  glads  me,  though  my  tears  may  run ; 

For  in  Thy  love  I  find  and  know 

What  all  the  world  could  ne'er  beftow. 

Then  I  can  let  the  world  go  by, 
And  yet  be  ftill  and  reft  in  Thee ; 

I  fit,  I  walk,  I  ftand,  I  lie. 
Thou  ever  watcheft  over  me. 

And  when  the  yoke  is  prefling  sore, 

I  think,  my  God  lives  evermore  ! 


THE  world  can  neither  give  nor  take. 
Nor  can  they  comprehend. 
The  peace  of  God,  which  Chrift  has  bought. 
The  peace  which  knows  no  end. 


Lyra  German'ica. 


DISCIPLINE. 


238  ^iet. 

The  burning  bufti  was  not  consumed 

While  God  remained  there  ; 
The  three,  when  Jesus  made  the  fourth, 

Found  fire  as  soft  as  air. 

God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  fland  ; 

But  Zion's  God  fits  by, 
As  the  refiner  views  his  gold, 

With  an  observant  eye. 

His  thoughts  are  high.  His  love  is  wise, 

His  wounds  a  cure  intend; 
And,  though  He  does  not  always  smile. 
He  loves  unto  the  end. 

Cento  by  Selina^  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  1780. 
From  John  Mason.  1683. 


RESTING  IN  GOD. 

MY  God  prote6ts  ;  my  fears  begone  ! 
What  can  the  Rock  of  Ages  move? 
Safe  in  thine  arms  I  lay  me  down. 
Thine  everlafting  arms  of  love. 

While  Thou  art  intimately  nigh, 
Who,  who  fhall  violate  my  reft  ? 


All  powers  of  evil  I  defy ; 
I  lean  upon  my  Father's  breaft. 

I  reft  beneath  the  Almighty's  fhade, 
My  griefs  expire,  my  troubles  cease  ; 
Thou,  Lord,  on  whom  my  soul  is  ftayed. 
Wilt  keep  me  ftill  in  perfeft  peace. 

Charles  Wefiey.     1 7  39  -  1 7 6  2 . 


239 


"  So  that  there  was  neither  hammer  nor  axe,  nor  any  tool  of  iron,  heard 
in  the  house  while  it  was  building."  —  I  Kings  vi.  7. 

WHEN  God  upheaved  the  pillared  earth. 
Hung  out  the  ftars,  to  light  gave  birth, 
Opened  its  deeps,  its  carpet  spread, 
'T  was  filence  all,  as  chaos  fled. 

When  rose  the  fane  on  Zion's  hill, 
A  work  of  matchless  power  and  fkill. 
No  axe  was  heard,  no  hammer  there  ; 
But  all  was  ftill  as  summer  air. 

Thus  laboring  through  life's  working  day. 
In  gold  or  marble,  wood  or  clay. 
Let  Art,  through  us,  its  empire  pure 
By  quiet  toil  and  fkill  secure. 


I 

240  ^iet. 

Thus  air  and  flame  fhall  space  o'ercome, 
And  bring  the  diftant  near  to  home  ; 
While  thought  in  channels  new  fhall  flow, 
And  round  the  world  in  filence  go. 

Great  God  !  thus  let  the  temple  rise 
Whose  altar-ftone  within  us  lies, 
Silent  and  calm,  with  fkill  divine. 
Till  light  immortal  round  it  (hine. 

Lewis  G.  Pray. 


THE  HEART'S  PRAYER. 


AS,  down  in  the  sunless  retreats  of  the  ocean. 
Sweet  flowers  are  springing  no  mortal  can  see. 
So,  deep  in  my  soul,  the  ftill  prayer  of  devotion. 
Unheard  by  the  world,  rises,  filent,  to  Thee, 
My  God!  filent,  to  Thee, — 
Pure,  warm,  filent,  to  Thee. 

As  ftill  to  the  ftar  of  its  worfhip,  though  clouded. 

The  needle  points  faithfully  o'er  the  dim  sea, 
So,  dark  when  I  roam,  in  this  wintry  world  fhrouded, 
The  hope  of  my  spirit  turns,  trembling,  to  Thee, 
My  God!  trembling,  to  Thee, — 
True,  sure,  trembling,  to  Thee. 

r.  Moore. 


241 


PEACE,  TROUBLED  SOUL. 

PEACE,  troubled  soul  !   Thou  needft  not  fear, 
Thy  great  Prote61:or  ftill  is  near  ; 
He  who  has  fed  will  feed  thee  ftill  ; 
Be  calm,  and  fink  into  His  will  ; 
Who  hears  the  ravens  when  they  cry 
Will  all  His  children's  needs  supply. 

Peace,  doubting  heart  !   diftruft  not  God  ; 
Though  dark  the  valley,  fteep  the  way, 
Still  lean  upon  His  ftafF  and  rod. 
Still  make  His  providence  thy  ftay : 
A  sudden  calm  thy  soul  fhall  fill  ;  — 
T  is  God  who  whispers.  Peace,  be  ftill ! 


SUMMER  STUDIES. 

WHY  (houldft  thou  ftudy  in  the  month  of  June 
In  duiky  books  of  Greek  and  Hebrew  lore. 
When  the  Great  Teacher  of  all  glorious  things 
PalTes  in  hourly  light  before  thy  door? 


242  ^iet. 

There  is  a  brighter  book  unrolling  now  ; 

Fair  are  its  leaves  as  is  the  tree  of  heaven, 

All  veined,  and  dewed,  and  gemmed  with  wondrous  fig 

To  which  a  healing,  myftic  power  is  given. 

A  thousand  voices  to  its  ftudy  call. 
From  the  fair  hill-top,  from  the  water-fall ; 
Where  the  bird  fingeth,  and  the  yellow  bee, 
And  the  breeze  talketh  from  the  airy  tree. 

Now  is  that  glorious  resurre6lion  time. 

When  all  earth's  buried  beauties  have  new  birth: 

Behold  the  yearly  miracle  complete,  — 

God  hath  created  a  new  heaven  and  earth  ! 

No  tree  that  wants  his  joyful  garments  now. 
No  flower  but  haftes  his  bravery  to  don  ; 
God  bids  thee  to  this  marriage-feaft  of  joy, 
Let  thy  soul  put  the  wedding  garment  on. 

All  fringed  with  feftal  gold  the  barberry  ftands. 
The  ferns  exultant  clap  their  new-made  wings. 
The  hemlock  ruftles  broideries  of  frefh  green, 
And  thousand  bells  of  pearl  the  blueberry  rings. 

The  long,  light  fingers  of  the  old  white  pines 
Do  beckon  thee  into  the  flickering  wood, 
Where  moving  spots  of  light  fhow  myftic  flowers, 
And  wavering  mufic  fills  the  dreamy  hours. 


^ist.  243 

Haft  thou  no  time  for  all  this  wondrous  (how,  — 
No  thought  to  spare  ?    Wilt  thou  forever  be 
With  thy  laft  year's  dry  flower-ftalk  and  dead  leaves, 
And  no  new  (hoot  or  bloffom  on  thy  tree  ? 

See  how  the  pines  pufh  ofF  their  laft  year's  leaves, 
And  ftretch  beyond  them  with  exultant  bound; 
The  grass  and  flowers  with  living  power  o'ergrow 
Their  laft  year's  remnants  on  the  greening  ground. 

Wilt  thou  then  all  thy  wintry  feelings  keep. 
The  old  dead  routine  of  thy  book-writ  lore. 
Nor  deem  that  God  can  teach  by  one  bright  hour 
What  life  hath  never  taught  to  thee  before  ? 

See  what  vaft  leisure,  what  unbounded  reft, 

Lie  in  the  bending  dome  of  the  blue  Iky  ; 

Ah  !  breathe  that  life-born  languor  from  thy  breaft. 

And  know  once  more  a  child's  unreasoning  joy. 

Cease,  cease  to  think^  and  be  content  to  he 
Swing  safe  at  anchor  in  fair  Nature's  bay  ; 
Reason  no  more,  but  o'er  thy  quiet  soul 
Let  God's  sweet  teachings  ripple  their  soft  way. 

Soar  with  the  birds,  and  flutter  with  the  leaf ; 
Dance  with  the  seeded  grass  in  fringy  play  ; 
Sail  with  the  cloud  ;  wave  with  the  dreaming  pine. 
And  float  with  Nature  all  the  livelong  day. 


244 


Call  not  such  hours  an  idle  wafte  of  life  ; 
Land  that  lies  fallow  gains  a  quiet  power  ; 
It  treasures  from  the  brooding  of  God's  wings 
Strength  to  unfold  the  future  tree  and  flower. 

So  fhall  it  be  with  thee,  if  reftful  ftill 
Thou  rightly  ftudieft  in  the  summer  hour  ; 
Like  a  deep  fountain  which  a  brook  doth  fill, 
Thy  mind  in  seeming  reft  fhall  gather  power. 

And  when  the  summer's  glorious  fhow  is  paft. 
Its  miracles  no  longer  charm  thy  fight. 
The  treasured  riches  of  these  thoughtful  hours 
Shall  make  thy  wintry  mufings  warm  and  bright. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stoive.  \ 


OLD  AGE. 


ONLY  WAITING. 

A  very  aged  Chriftian,  who  was  so  poor  as  to  be  in  an  almshouse,  was 
alked  what  he  was  doing  now.    He  replied,  "  Only  waiting." 

ONLY  waiting  till  the  fhadows 
Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 
Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  laft  beam  is  flown  ; 
Till  the  night  of  earth  is  faded 

From  the  heart  once  full  of  day  ; 
Till  the  ftars  of  heaven  are  breaking 
Through  the  twilight  soft  and  gray. 

Only  waiting  till  the  reapers 

Have  the  laft  -ftieaf  gathered  home  ; 
For  the  summer-time  is  faded, 

And  the  autumn  winds  have  come. 
Quickly,  reapers,  gather  quickly 

The  laft  ripe  hours  of  my  heart, 
For  the  bloom  of  life  is  withered, 

And  I  haften  to  depart. 


246 


Old  Age. 


Only  waiting  till  the  angels 

Open  wide  the  myftic  gate, 
At  whose  foot  I  long  have  lingered, 

Weary,  poor,  and  desolate. 
Even  now  I  hear  the  footfteps. 

And  their  voices,  far  away  \ 
If  they  call  me,  I  am  waiting. 

Only  waiting  to  obey. 

Only  waiting  till  the  fhadows 

Are  a  little  longer  grown  ; 
Only  waiting  till  the  glimmer 

Of  the  day's  laft  beam  is  flown : 
Then  from  out  the  gathered  darkness 

Holy,  deathless  ftars  fhall  rise, 
By  whose  light  my  soul  fhall  gladly 

Tread  its  pathway  to  the  (kies. 


THE  BORDER  LAND. 


FATHER  !  into  Thy  loving  hands 
My  feeble  spirit  I  commit. 
While  wandering  in  these  border-lands 
Until  Thy  voice  {hall  summon  it. 


Old  Age. 


247 


Father  !   I  would  not  dare  to  choose 
A  longer  life,  —  an  earlier  death  ; 

I  know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
By  fhortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  border  lands  are  calm  and  ftill, 
And  solemn  are  their  filent  fhades  ; 

And  my  heart  welcomes  them  until 
The  light  of  life's  long  evening  fades. 

I  heard  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 
As  fearful  and  unquiet  places  ; 

Shades  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
Look  sadly  in  each  other's  faces. 

But  fince  Thy  hand  hath  led  me  here. 
And  I  have  seen  the  border  land, — 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near. 

Stood  on  its  brink  as  now  I  ftand,  — 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 

My  trembling  soul  ;  how  could  I  fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  Thine  arm  ? 
I  never  felt  Thee  half  so  near. 

What  fhould  appall  me  in  a  place 

That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  Thee  ? 

Where  I  may  almoft  see  Thy  face,  — 
Surely  't  is  here  my  soul  would  be  ! 


248  Old  Age. 

They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep,  — 
That  faith  has  perifhed  in  the  river  ; 

They  speak  of  death  with  fear  —  and  weep; 
Shall  my  soul  perifh  ?  never,  never  ! 

I  know  that  Thou  wilt  never  leave 
The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 

To  Thee  ;  I  know  Thou  wilt  achieve 
Its  paffage  on  Thine  outftretched  wings. 

I  cannot  see  the  golden  gate 
Unfolding  yet  to  welcome  me; 

I  cannot  yet  anticipate 

The  joy  of  heaven's  jubilee. 

But  I  will  calmly  watch  and  pray, 
Until  I  hear  my  Saviour's  voice 

Calling  my  happy  soul  away 
To  see  His  glory,  and  rejoice. 


THE  TABERNACLE. 


HOW  meanly  dwells  the  immortal  mind  ! 
How  vile  these  bodies  are  ! 
Why  was  a  clod  of  earth  defigned 
To  enclose  a  heavenly  ftar  ? 


Old  Age, 


249 


Weak  cottage  where  our  souls  refide  ! 

This  flefh  a  tottering  wall, 
With  frightful  breaches  gaping  wide, 

The  building  bends  to  fall. 

All  round  it  ftorms  of  trouble  blow, 

And  waves  of  sorrow  roll  ; 
Cold  winds  and  winter  ftorms  beat  through, 

And  pain  the  tenant  soul. 

"  Alas  !  how  frail  our  state  !  "  said  I, 

And  thus  went  murmuring  on, 
Till  sudden  from  the  clearing  Iky 

A  gleam  of  glory  fhone. 

My  soul  felt  all  the  glory  come, 

And  breathed  her  native  air  ; 
Then  fhe  remembered  heaven  her  home, 

And  (he  a  prisoner  here. 

Straight  fhe  began  to  change  her  key, 

And,  joyful  in  her  pains. 
She  sung  the  frailty  of  her  clay 

In  pleasurable  ftrains. 

How  weak  the  prison  where  I  dwell  ! 

Flefli  but  a  tottering  wall  ; 
These  breaches  cheerfully  foretell 

The  house  muft  (hortly  fall. 


250 


Old  Age. 


No  more,  my  friends,  fhall  I  complain, 
Though  all  my  heart-ftrings  ache  ; 

Welcome  disease  and  every  pain 
That  makes  the  cottage  fhake  ! 

Now  let  the  tempefl:  blow  around. 

Now  swell  the  surges  high, 
And  beat  the  house  of  bondage  down. 

And  let  the  ftranger  fly  ! 

I  have  a  manfion  built  above 

By  the  Eternal  Hand  ; 
And  (hould  the  earth's  old  bafis  move. 

My  heavenly  house  muft  ftand. 

Isaac  Watts.     1674- 1748. 


I AM  old  and  blind! 
Men  point  at  me  as  smitten  by  God's  frown  ; 
Afflided  and  deserted  of  my  kind  ; 
Yet  I  am  not  caft  down. 

I  am  weak,  vet  ftrong  ; 
I  murmur  not  that  I  no  longer  see  ; 
Poor,  old,  and  helpless,  I  the  more  belong. 

Father  supreme  !  to  Thee. 


Old  Age,  251 

0  merciful  One  ! 

When  men  are  fartheft,  then  Thou  art  moft  near  ; 
When  friends  pass  by  me,  and  my  weakness  (hun, 
Thy  chariot  I  hear. 

Thy  glorious  face 
Is  leaning  toward  me  ;  and  its  holy  light 
Shines  in  upon  my  lonely  dwelling-place,  — 

And  there  is  no  more  night. 

On  my  bended  knee 
I  recognize  thy  purpose  clearly  fhown  : 
My  vifion  thou  haft  dimmed,  that  I  may  see 

Thyself,  —  thyself  alone. 

1  have  naught  to  fear  ; 

This  darkness  is  the  fhadow  of  thy  wing  ; 
Beneath  it  I  am  almoft  sacred  ;  here 
Can  come  no  evil  thing. 

O,  I  seem  to  ftand 
Trembling,  where  foot  of  mortal  ne'er  hath  been. 
Wrapped  in  the  radiance  of  thy  finless  land, 

Which  eye  hath  never  seen. 

Vifions  come  and  go  : 
Shapes  of  resplendent  beauty  round  me  throng  ; 
From  angel  lips  I  seem  to  hear  the  flow 

Of  soft  and  holy  song. 


252  Old  Age. 

Is  it  nothing  now, 
When  heaven  is  opening  on  my  fightless  eyes  ?  — 
When  airs  from  paradise  refrefh  my  brow 

The  earth  in  darkness  Hes. 

In  a  purer  clime 
My  being  fills  with  rapture,  —  waves  of  thought 
Roll  in  upon  my  spirit,  —  ftrains  sublime 

Break  over  me  unsought. 

Give  me  now  my  lyre  ! 
I  feel  the  ftirrings  of  a  gift  divine  : 
Within  my  bosom  glows  unearthly  fire, 

Lit  by  no  (kill  of  mine. 

Milton.     1608 -1674. 


THE  AGED  BELIEVER. 


WITH  years  opprefled,  with  sorrow  worn, 
Deje6ted,  harafled,  fick,  forlorn. 
To  Thee,  O  God,  I  pray  : 
To  Thee  my  withered  hands  arise, 
To  Thee  I  lift  these  failing  eyes  ; 
O  caft  me  not  away ! 


Old  Age. 


253 


Thy  mercy  heard  my  infant  prayer, 
Thy  love  with  all  a  mother's  care 

Suftained  my  childifli  days  : 
Thy  goodness  watched  my  ripening  youth, 
And  formed  my  heart  to  love  Thy  truth. 

And  filled  my  lips  with  praise. 

O  Saviour,  has  Thy  grace  declined  ? 
Can  years  afFe6t  the  Eternal  mind, 

Or  time  its  love  decay  ? 
A  thousand  ages  in  Thy  fight. 
And  all  their  long  and  weary  flight 

Is  gone  like  yefterday. 

Then,  even  in  age  and  grief.  Thy  name 
Shall  ftill  my  languid  heart  inflame. 

And  bow  my  faltering  knee  ; 
O  yet  this  bosom  feels  the  fire. 
This  trembling  hand  and  drooping  lyre 

Have  yet  a  (train  for  Thee. 

Yes  !  broken,  tuneless,  ftill,  O  Lord, 
This  voice,  transported,  fhall  record 

Thy  goodness,  tried  so  long  ; 
Till,  finking  flow  with  calm  decay. 
Its  feeble  murmurs  melt  away 

Into  a  seraph's  song. 

Sir  Robert  Grant.  1839. 


254 


Old  Age. 


GRAY  HAIRS. 

THESE  hairs  of  age  are  meflengers, 
Which  bid  me  faft,  repent,  and  pray  ; 
They  be  of  death  the  harbingers, 

That  do  prepare  and  dress  the  way  ; 
Wherefore  I  joy  that  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head  such  hairs  to  be. 

They  be  the  Hnes  that  lead  the  length 
How  far  mv  race  was  for  to  run  ; 

They  say  my  youth  is  fled  with  ftrength. 
And  how  old  age  is  well  begun  ; 

The  which  I  feel,  and  you  may  see 

Such  lines  upon  my  head  to  be. 

They  be  the  firings  of  sober  sound. 

Whose  mufic  is  harmonical  ; 
Their  tunes  declare  a  time  from  ground 

I  came,  and  how  thereto  I  fhall  ; 
Wherefore  I  love  that  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head  such  hairs  to  be. 


God  grant  to  those  that  white  hairs  have, 
No  worse  them  take  than  I  have  meant  ; 


Old  Age.  255 

That  after  they  be  laid  in  grave, 

Their  souls  may  joy,  their  lives  well  spent ; 
God  grant,  likewise,  that  you  may  see 
Upon  my  head  such  hairs  to  be. 

Lord  Vaux.  1530. 


WOULD  YOU  BE  YOUNG  AGAIN  ? 

WOULD  you  be  young  again  ? 
So  would  not  I  ;  — 
One  tear  to  memory  given, 

Onward  I  '11  hie  ;  — 
Life's  dark  wave  forded  o'er. 
All  but  at  reft  on  fhore. 
Say,  would  you  plunge  once  more. 
With  home  so  nigh  ? 

If  you  might,  would  you  now 

Retrace  your  way  ? 
Wander  through  ftormy  wilds. 

Faint  and  aftray  ? 
Night's  gloomy  watches  fled. 
Morning  all  beaming  red, 
Hope's  smiles  around  us  ftied, 

Heavenward,  away ! 


256 


Old  Age, 


Where  are  those  dear  ones, 

Our  joy  and  deHght, 
Dear  and  more  dear^  though  now 

Hidden  from  fight  ? 
Where  they  rejoice  to  be, 

There  is  the  home  for  me  \ 
Fly,  time,  fly  speedily. 

Come,  life  and  light  ! 

Written  in  her  J 6th  year  by  Caroline^ 
Baroness  of  Nairn. 


"COME  UNTO  ME." 

COME  unto  me,  when  (hadows  darkly  gather, 
When  the  sad  heart  is  weary  and  diftreft, 
Seeking  for  comfort  from  your  Heavenly  Father, 
Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  reft  ! 

Ye  who  have  mourned  when  the  spring  flowers  were  taken. 
When  the  ripe  fruit  fell  richly  to  the  ground. 

When  the  loved  flept,  in  brighter  homes  to  waken. 
Where  their  pale  brows  with  spirit-wreaths  are  crowned. 

Large  are  the  manfions  in  thy  Father's  dwelling. 
Glad  are  the  homes  that  sorrows  never  dim  ; 

Sweet  are  the  harps  in  holy  mufic  swelling. 

Soft  are  the  tones  which  raise  the  heavenly  hymn. 


Old  Age,  257 

There,  like  an  Eden  blofToming  in  gladness, 

Bloom  the  fair  flowers  the  earth  too  rudely  prefled  ; 

Come  unto  me,  all  ye  who  droop  in  sadness, 
Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  reft. 


AWAKE,  ye  saints,  and  raise  your  eyes. 
And  raise  your  voices  high  ; 
Awake,  and  praise  that  sovereign  love 
That  fhows  salvation  nigh. 

On  all  the  wings  of  time  it  flies, 

Each  moment  brings  it  near; 
Then  welcome  each  declining  day, 

Welcome  each  clofing  year ! 

Not  many  years  their  round  fhall  run. 

Nor  many  mornings  rise. 
Ere  all  its  glories  ftand  revealed 

To  our  admiring  eyes  ! 


Ye  wheels  of  nature,  speed  your  course  ! 

Ye  mortal  powers,  decay  ! 
Faft  as  ye  bring  the  night  of  death. 

Ye  bring  eternal  day  ! 

Philip  Doddridge.  1755. 

17 


258 


Old  Age. 


YOUR  harps,  ye  trembling  saints, 
Down  from  the  willows  take  ; 
Loud  to  the  praise  of  Love  divine 
Bid  every  firing  awake. 

Though  in  a  foreign  land, 
We  are  not  far  from  home  ; 
And  nearer  to  our  house  above 
We  every  moment  come. 

His  Grace  will  to  the  end 
Stronger  and  brighter  fhine  ; 
Nor  present  things,  nor  things  to  come, 
Shall  quench  the  spark  divine. 

Faftened  within  the  veil, 
Hope  be  your  anchor  ftrong; 
His  loving  Spirit  the  sweet  gale 
That  wafts  you  smooth  along. 

Or  Ihould  the  surges  rise. 
And  peace  delay  to  come, 
Bleft  is  the  sorrow,  kind  the  ftorm. 
That  drives  us  nearer  home. 


Old  Age, 


259 


'  The  people  of  His  choice 
He  will  not  caft  away  ; 
Yet  do  not  always  here  expert 
On  Tabor's  mount  to  fta^. 

When  we  in  darkness  walk, 
Nor  feel  the  heavenly  flame, 
Then  is  the  time  to  truft  our  God, 
And  reft  upon  His  name. 

Soon  ftiall  our  doubts  and  fears 
Subfide  at  His  control ; 
His  loving-kindness  fhall  break  through 
The  midnight  of  the  soul. 

No  wonder,  when  His  love 
Pervades  your  kindling  breaft. 
You  wifli  forever  to  retain 
The  heart-transporting  Gueft. 

Yet  learn,  in  every  ftate. 
To  make  His  will  your  own  ; 
And,  when  the  joys  of  sense  depart, 
To  walk  by  faith  alone. 

By  anxious  fear  deprefTed, 
When  from  the  deep  ye  mourn, 
"  Lord,  why  so  hafty  to  depart. 
So  tedious  in  return  ?  " 


26o 


Old  Age, 


Still  on  His  plighted  Love 
At  all  events  rely  ; 
The  very  hidings  of  His  face 
Shall  train  thee  up  to  joy. 

Wait,  till  the  fhadows  flee ; 
Wait  thy  appointed  hour; 
Wait,  till  the  Bridegroom  of  thy  soul 
Reveal  His  Love  with  power. 

The  time  of  Love  will  come, 
When  thou  fhalt  clearly  see, 
Not  only  that  He  fhed  His  blood. 
But  that  it  flowed  for  thee  ! 

Tarry  His  leisure,  then, 
Although  He  seem  to  ftay ; 
A  moment's  intercourse  with  Him 
Thy  grief  will  overpay. 

Bbfl  is  the  man,  O  God, 
That  ftays  himself  on  Thee  ! 
Who  wait  for  Thy  salvation,  Lord, 
Shall  Thy  salvation  see. 

A.  M.  Toplady.  1772. 


Old  Age, 


261 


SKIES  are  dark  and  winds  arc  moaning, 
Leaves  around  us  falling  faft, 
Autumn's  saddening  power  is  on  us, 
Bringing  memories  of  the  paft. 

Days  of  joy,  when  friends  were  with  us, 
Friends  of  blood,  and  friends  of  time. 
Days  when  thought  grew  great  and  glorious. 
Days  of  hope  almoft  sublime. 

Veil,  in  mercy  veil  the  future  ! 
Let  the  present  be  our  cross  ; 
Meekly  may  we  bear  it,  waiting 
Future  ftrength  for  future  loss. 

When  these  bodies,  worn  and  wafted. 
Fall  like  leaves  'neath  autumn's  blight, 
Take,  O  take  our  spirits  upward 
To  the  realms  of  heavenly  light ! 

Light,  that 's  born  of  our  decay. 
Light,  that  ne'er  (hall  wafte  away. 
Light,  that  ages  fhall  increase. 
Light  of  Life,  and  endless  Peace. 

Mrs,  S.  A.  Morewood,  1862. 


262 


Old  Age, 


"He  was  in  ail  points  tempted  like  as  we  are."  —  Heb.  iv.  15. 

WHEN  gathering  clouds  around  I  view, 
And  days  are  dark,  and  friends  are  few. 
On  Him  I  lean,  who  not  in  vain 
Experienced  every  human  pain  : 
He  sees  my  wants,  allays  my  fears, 
And  counts  and  treasures  up  my  tears. 

If  aught  (hould  tempt  my  soul  to  ftray 

PVom  heavenly  wisdom's  narrow  way, 

To  fly  the  good  I  would  pursue. 

Or  do  the  ill  I  would  not  do. 

Still  He  who  felt  temptation's  power 

Shall  guard  me  in  that  dangerous  hour. 

If  wounded  love  my  bosom  swell. 
Deceived  by  those  I  prized  too  well. 
He  fhall  his  pitying  aid  beftow 
Who  felt  on  earth  severer  woe  ; 
At  once  betrayed,  denied,  or  fled. 
By  those  who  fliared  his  daily  bread. 

If  vexing  thoughts  within  me  rise. 
And  sore  dismayed  my  spirit  dies. 
Still  He  who  once  vouchsafed  to  bear 
The  fickening  anguifli  of  despair 


Old  Age. 


263 


Shall  sweetly  soothe,  fhall  gently  dry, 
The  throbbing  heart,  the  ftreaming  eve. 

When  sorrowing  o'er  some  ftone  I  bend, 
Which  covers  what  was  once  a  friend, 
And  from  his  voice,  his  hand,  his  smile, 
Divides  me  for  a  little  while,  — 
Thou,  Saviour,  mark'ft  the  tears  I  fhed, 
P^or  Thou  didft  weep  o'er  Lazarus  dead  ! 

And  O,  when  I  have  safely  part 
Through  every  confli6l  but  the  laft. 
Still,  ftill  unchanging,  watch  befide 
My  dying  bed,  for  thou  haft  died  ; 
Then  point  to  realms  of  cloudless  day, 
And  wipe  the  lateft  tear  away  ! 

Then  come.  Lord  Jesus  !  come  with  speed, 
And  help  me  in  my  hour  of  need  ; 
Then  hide  my  fins,  and  let  my  faith 
Be  brave  and  conquer  ev'n  in  death  ; 
Then  let  me,  refting  on  Thy  word. 
Securely  fleep  in  Thee,  my  Lord. 

Sir  Robert  Grant,     1 839. 


264 


Old  Age. 


THE  DESIRED  HAVEN. 


LORD,  the  lights  are  gleaming  from  the  diftant  fbore, 
Where  no  billows  threaten,  where  no  tempefts  roar; 
Long-beloved  voices  calling  me  I  hear, — 
O,  how  sweet  their  summons  falls  upon  my  ear  ! 
Here  are  foes  and  ftrangers,  faithless  hearts  and  cold  ; 
There  is  fond  afFe6lion,  fondly  proved  of  old ! 
Let  me  hafte  to  join  them ;  may  it  not  be  so  ? 
Loose  the  cable,  let  me  go  ! 

Hark,  the  solemn  answer  !  hark,  the  promise  sure  ! 
BlelTed  are  the  servants  who  to  the  end  endure  ! 
Yet  a  little  longer  hope  and  tarry  on, — 
Yet  a  little  longer,  weak  and  weary  one  ! 
More  to  perfe6l  patience,  to  grow  in  faith  and  love. 
More  my  ftrength  and  wisdom  and  faithfulness  to  prove; 
Then  the  sailing-orders  the  Captain  fhall  beftow, — 
Loose  the  cable,  let  thee  go  ! 

Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant. 


Old  Age. 


265 


WHEN  in  the  vale  of  lengthened  years 
iMy  feeble  feet  (hall  tread, 
And  I  survey  the  various  scenes 

Through  v^^hich  I  have  been  led,  — 

How  many  mercies  will  my  life 

Before  my  view  unfold  ! 
What  countless  dangers  will  be  pafled, 

What  tales  of  sorrow  told ! 

But  yet,  my  soul,  if  thou  canft  say, 

I 've  seen  my  God  in  all. 
In  every  blefling  owned  his  hand. 

In  every  loss  his  call ;  — 

If  piety  has  marked  my  fteps. 

And  love  my  actions  formed. 
And  purity  poffefTed  my  heart. 

And  truth  my  lips  adorned  ;  — 

If  I  an  aged  servant  am 

Of  Jesus  and  of  God, 
I  need  not  fear  the  clofing  scene. 

Nor  dread  th'  appointed  road. 


266  Old  Age. 

This  scene  will  all  my  labors  end, 
This  road  conduct  on  high; 

With  comfort  I  '11  review  the  paft. 
And  triumph  though  I  die. 


THE  DAWN. 


THESE  years  of  life,  —  what  do  they  seem? 
A  little  dream 
Of  pain  and  pleasure  blent  together,  — 
A  time  of  fharply  changing  weather  \ 
When  brilliant  sunbeams  gleam  and  die 
On  heavy  ftorm-clouds  sailing  by, — 

Where  falling  tears 
Are  bright  with  hope,  and  cold  with  fears. 

The  years,  the  clouds,  have  had  their  course,  — 

Their  mingled  force 
Has  bowed  my  heart  and  bent  mv  head,  — 
Sunfliine  and  ftorm  alike  are  fled. 
And  in  their  place  a  heavy  gray 
Dulls  all  the  tinting  of  the  day. 

Shall  growing  light 
Follow  the  gray  ?  —  or  deepening  night  ? 


Old  Age. 


267 


What  ftiall  the  future  progress  be 

Of  hfe  with  me  ? 
God  knows,  — •  I  roll  on  Him  my  care,  — 
Night  is  not  night  if  He  be  there. 
When  daylight  is  no  longer  mine. 
And  ftars  forbidden  are  to  fhine, 

I  '11  turn  my  eyes 
To  where  eternal  day  fhall  rise. 

That  coming  light  no  mortal  cloud 

Can  quite  enfhroud  ! 
Through  all  our  doubts, — above  the  range 
Of  every  fear,  and  every  change,  — 
My  faith  can  see,  with  weary  eye. 
The  dawn  of  heaven  on  earth's  dim  fky  ; 

And  from  afar 
Shines  on  my  soul  the  morning  ftar. 

Hymns  of  the  Church  Militant. 


GOD  of  my  childhood  and  my  youth, 
The  Guide  of  all  my  days, 
I  have  declared  thy  heavenly  truth. 
And  told  thy  wondrous  ways. 


268 


Old  Age. 


Wilt  thou  forsake  my  hoary  hairs, 

And  leave  my  fainting  heart  ? 
Who  fhall  suftain  my  finking  years, 

If  God,  my  ftrength,  depart? 

Let  me  thy  power  and  truth  proclaim 

Before  the  rifing  age. 
And  leave  a  savor  of  thy  name 

When  I  fhall  quit  the  ftage. 

The  land  of  filence  and  of  death 

Attends  my  next  remove  ; 
O  may  these  poor  remains  of  breath 

Teach  all  the  world  thy  love  ! 

Isaac  W atts,     1674  -  1748. 


WHEN  life's  tempeftuous  ftorms  are  o'er, 
How  calm  he  meets  the  friendly  (bore. 
Who  lived  averse  from  fin  ! 
Such  peace  on  virtue's  paths  attends. 
That,  where  the  finner's  pleasure  ends, 
The  Chriftian's  joys  begin. 

See  smiling  patience  smooth  his  brow  ! 
See  bending  angels  downward  bow. 
To  cheer  his  way  on  high  ! 


Old  Age, 


269 


While,  eager  for  uhe  bleft  abode. 
He  joins  with  them  to  praise  the  God 
Who  taught  him  how  to  die. 

No  sorrow  drowns  his  Hfted  eyes  ; 
No  horror  wrefts  the  ftruggling  fighs, 

As  from  the  Tinner's  breaft  ; 
His  God,  the  God  of  peace  and  love, 
Pours  kindly  solace  from  above. 

And  soothes  his  soul  to  reft. 

O  grant,  my  Father  and  my  Friend, 
Such  joys  may  gild  my  peaceful  end,  — 

So  calm  my  evening  close  ; 
While,  loosed  from  every  earthly  tie. 
With  fteady  confidence  I  fly 

To  Thee  from  whom  I  rose. 

W.  Bojion  Coll. 


THE  hour  of  my  departure 's  come  ; 
I  hear  the  voice  that  calls  me  home  : 
Now,  O  my  Lord,  let  trouble  cease. 
Now  let  thy  servant  die  in  peace. 

The  race  appointed  I  have  run  ; 
The  combat 's  o'er,  the  prize  is  won  ; 
And  now  my  witness  is  on  high. 
And  now  my  record 's  in  the  fky. 


270 


Old  Age. 


I  leave  the  world  without  a  tear, 
Save  for  the  friends  I  held  so  dear: 
To  heal  their  sorrows,  Lord,  descend, 
And  to  the  friendless  prove  a  friend. 

I  come,  I  come  ;  at  thy  command, 
I  give  my  spirit  to  thy  hand  ; 
Stretch  forth  thine  everlalting  arms. 
And  fhield  me  in  the  laft  alarms. 

The  hour  of  my  departure 's  come  ; 
I  hear  the  voice  that  calls  me  home  : 
Now,  O  my  God,  let  trouble  cease  ; 
Now  let  thy  servant  die  in  peace. 

'John  Logan.     1 770. 


HOW  bleft  is  he  whose  tranquil  mind, 
When  life  declines,  recalls  again 
The  years  that  time  has  caft  behind. 
And  reaps  delight  from  toil  and  pain. 

So,  when  the  tranfient  ftorm  is  paft, 
The  sudden  gloom  and  driving  (hower. 

The  sweetefl:  sunfhine  is  the  laft  ; 
The  lovelieft  is  the  evening  hour. 


Old  Age. 


271 


THE  RIVER  PATH. 

NO  bird-song  floated  down  the  hill, 
The  tangled  bank  below  was  ftill ; 

No  ruftle  from  the  birchen  ftem, 

No  ripple  from  the  water's  hem.  j 

The  dufk  of  twilight  round  us  grew,  j 
We  felt  the  falling  of  the  dew  ; 

For,  from  us,  ere  the  day  was  done. 
The  wooded  hills  fhut  out  the  sun. 

But  on  the  river's  farther  fide 
We  saw  the  hill-tops  glorified,  — 

.  i 

A  tender  glow,  exceeding  fair, 
A  dream  of  day  without  its  glare. 

With  us  the  damp,  the  chill,  the  gloom  : 
With  them  the  sunset's  rosy  bloom  ; 

While  dark,  through  willowy  viftas  seen. 
The  river  rolled  in  fhade  between. 

From  out  the  darkness  where  we  trod 
We  gazed  upon  those  hills  of  God, 

Whose  light  seemed  not  of  moon  or  sun. 
We  spake  not,  but  our  thought  was  one. 


272 


Old  Age. 


We  paused,  as  if  from  that  bright  ftiore 
Beckoned  our  dear  ones  gone  before  ; 

And  ftilled  our  beating  hearts  to  hear 
The  voices  loft  to  mortal  ear  ! 

Sudden  our  pathway  turned  from  night ; 
The  hills  swung  open  to  the  light; 

Through  their  green  gates  the  sunfhine  fhowed, 
A  long,  flant  splendor  downward  flowed. 

Down  glade  and  glen  and  bank  it  rolled  ; 
It  bridged  the  (haded  ftream  with  gold  ; 

And,  borne  on  piers  of  mift,  allied 
The  fhadowy  with  the  sunlit  fide  ! 

"So,"  prayed  we,  "when  our  feet  draw  near 
The  river,  dark  with  mortal  fear, 

"And  the  night  cometh  chill  with  dew, 
O  Father  !  let  thy  light  break  through  ! 

"So  let  the  hills  of  doubt  divide. 
So  bridge  with  faith  the  sunless  tide  ! 

"So  let  the  eyes  that  fail  on  earth 
On  thy  eternal  hills  look  forth  ; 

"And  in  thy  beckoning  angels  know 
The  dear  ones  whom  we  loved  below  !  " 

J.  G.  Wh'ittler.  i860. 


r 


Old  Age. 


273 


"AT  EVENING  THERE  SHALL  BE  LIGHT." 


OUR  pathway  oft  is  wet  with  tears, 
Our  Iky  with  clouds  o'ercaft, 
And  worldly  cares  and  worldly  fears 

Go  with  us  to  the  laft  ;  — 
Not  to  the  laft  !   God's  word  hath  said, 

Could  we  but  read  aright : 
O  pilgrim!   lift  in  hope  thy  head, 
At  eve  it  fhall  be  hght  ! 

Though  earth-born  fhadows  now  may  fhroud 

Our  toilsome  path  awhile, 
God's  blefled  word  can  part  each  cloud. 

And  bid  the  sunfhine  smile. 
If  we  but  truft  in  living  faith. 

His  love  and  power  divine. 
Then,  though  our  sun  may  set  in  death. 

His  light  (hall  round  us  fhine. 

When  tempeft-clouds  are  dark  on  high, 

His  bow  of  love  and  peace 
Shines  beauteous  in  the  vaulted  fky, 

A  pledge  that  ftorms  fhall  cease. 
18 


274 


Old  Age, 


Then  keep  we  on,  with  hope  unchilled, 

By  faith  and  not  by  fight, 
And  we  (hall  own  His  word  fulfilled,  — 

At  eve  it  fhall  be  light  ! 

Bernard  Barton, 


GRACIOUS  Source  of  every  blefling  ! 
Guard  our  breads  from  anxious  fears  ; 
Let  us  each,  thy  care  poflefling. 
Sink  into  the  vale  of  years. 

All  our  hopes  on  thee  reclining. 

Peace  companion  of  our  way, 
May  our  sun,  in  smiles  declining. 

Rise  in  everlafting  day. 


DEATH. 


EVENING  LIGHT. 

BEHOLD  the  weftern  evening  light! 
It  melts  in  deepening  gloom  : 
So  calmly  Chriftians  fink  away, 
Descending  to  the  tomb. 

The  winds  breathe  low  ;  the  withering  1< 
Scarce  whispers  from  the  tree  : 

So  gently  flows  the  parting  breath, 
When  good  men  cease  to  be. 

How  beautiful  on  all  the  hills 

The  crimson  light  is  fhed  ! 
'T  is  like  the  peace  the  Chriftian  gives 

To  mourners  round  his  bed. 

How  mildly  on  the  wandering  cloud 

The  sunset  beam  is  caft  ! 
'T  is  like  the  memory  left  behind, 

When  loved  ones  breathe  their  laft. 


Death. 


And  now  above  the  dews  of  night 

The  vesper-ftar  appears  : 
So  faith  springs  in  the  heart  of  those 

Whose  eyes  are  bathed  in  tears. 

But  soon  the  morning's  happier  light 

Its  glory  (hall  reftore, 
And  eyelids  that  are  sealed  in  death 

Shall  wake  to  close  no  more. 

W.  B.   O.  Peabody.  i 


IN  VIEW  OF  DEATH. 


THE  hour,  the  hour,  the  parting  hour. 
That  takes  from  this  dark  world  its  power, 
And  lays  at  once  the  thorn  and  flower 

On  the  same  withering  bier,  my  soul  ! 
The  hour  that  ends  all  earthly  woes, 
And  gives  the  wearied  soul  repose, — • 
How  soft,  how  sweet,  that  laft  long  close 
Of  mortal  hope  and  fear,  my  soul  ! 

How  sweet,  while  on  this  broken  lyre 
The  melodies  of  time  expire. 
To  feel  it  ftrung  with  chords  of  fire 
To  praise  the  Immortal  One,  my  soul! 


Death. 


277 


And  while  our  farewell  tears  we  pour 
To  those  we  leave  on  this  cold  {hore, 
To  feel  that  we  fhall  weep  no  more, 
Nor  dwell  in  heaven  alone,  my  soul  ! 

How  sweet,  while,  waning  faft  away. 
The  ftars  of  this  dim  world  decay, 
To  hail,  prophetic  of  the  day. 

The  golden  dawn  above,  my  soul  ! 
To  feel  we  only  fleep  to  rise 
In  sunnier  lands  and  fairer  fkies. 
To  bind  again  our  broken  ties 

In  ever-living  love,  my  soul ! 

The  hour,  the  hour,  so  pure  and  calm, 
That  bathes  the  wounded  soul  in  balm. 
And  round  the  pale  brow  twines  the  palm 

That  fliuns  this  wintry  clime,  my  soul  ! 
The  hour  that  draws  o'er  earth  and  all 
Its  briers  and  blooms  the  mortal  pall,  — 
How  soft,  how  sweet,  that  evening-fall 

Of  fears,  and  grief,  and  time,  my  soul  ! 


278 


Death. 


TIME  AND  ETERNITY. 

IT  is  not  time  that  flies  ; 
'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  flying : 
It  is  not  Life  that  dies  ; 

'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  dying. 
Time  and  eternity  are  one  ; 
Time  is  eternity  begun  : 
Life  changes,  yet  without  decay  ; 
'T  is  we  alone  who  pass  away. 

It  is  not  Truth  that  flies  ; 

'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  flying : 
It  is  not  Faith  that  dies  ; 

'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  dying. 
O  ever-during  faith  and  truth. 
Whose  youth  is  age,  whose  age  is  youth  ! 
Twin  ftars  of  immortality, 
Ye  cannot  perifh  from  our  (ky. 

It  is  not  Hope  that  flies  ; 

'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  flying : 
It  is  not  Love  that  dies  ; 

'T  is  we,  't  is  we  are  dying. 
Twin  ftreams,  that  have  in  heaven  your  birth, 
Ye  Aide  in  gentle  joy  through  earth. 


Death. 


279 


We  fade,  like  flowers  befide  you  sown  ; 
Ye  are  ftill  flowing,  flowing  on. 

Yet  we  but  die  to  live  ; 

It  is  from  death  we  're  flying : 
Forever  lives  our  life  ; 

For  us  there  is  no  dying. 
We  die  but  as  the  spring-bud  dies. 
In  summer's  golden  glow  to  rise. 
These  be  our  days  of  April  bloom  ; 
Our  July  is  beyond  the  tomb. 

H.  Bonar.  1856. 


ON  THE  THRESHOLD. 

I'M.  returning,  not  departing  ; 
My  fteps  are  homeward  bound. 
I  quit  the  land  of  ftrangers 
For  a  home  on  native  ground. 

I  am  rifing,  and  not  setting  ; 

This  is  not  night,  but  day. 
Not  in  darkness,  but  in  sunfliine, 

Like  a  ftar,  I  fade  away. 

All  is  well  with  me  forever, 
I  do  not  fear  to  go. 


280 


Death, 


My  tide  is  but  beginning 
Its  bright  eternal  flow. 

I  am  leaving  only  fhadows, 

For  the  true  and  fair  and  good. 

I  muft  not,  cannot  linger  ; 
I  would  not,  though  I  could. 

This  is  not  death's  dark  portal, 

'T  is  life's  golden  gate  to  me. 
Link  after  link  is  broken, 

And  I  at  laft  am  free. 

I  am  going  to  the  angels, 

I  am  going  to  my  God  ; 
I  know  the  hand  that  beckons, 

I  see  the  holy  road. 

Why  grieve  me  with  your  weeping. 

Your  tears  are  all  in  vain  ; 
An  hour's  farewell,  beloved. 

And  we  fhall  meet  again. 

Jesus,  thou  wilt  receive  me. 

And  welcome  me  above  ; 
This  sunfhine  which  now  fills  me 

Is  thine  own  smile  of  love. 

H.  Bonar.  1856. 


Death. 


THE  DEAD. 


THOU  God  of  Love  !  beneath  thy  (heltering  wings 
We  leave  our  holy  dead, 
To  reft  in  hope  !    From  this  world's  sufferings 
Their  souls  have  fled  ! 

O,  when  our  souls  are  burdened  with  the  weight 

Of  life,  and  all  its  woes, 
Let  us  remember  them,  and  calmly  wait 

For  our  life's  close  ! 

Anon. 


FRIEND  after  friend  departs  ; 
Who  hath  not  loft  a  friend  ? 
There  is  no  union  here  of  hearts 
That  finds  not  here  an  end  : 
Were  this  frail  world  our  only  reft, 
Living  or  dying,  none  were  bleft. 

Beyond  the  flight  of  time. 
Beyond  this  vale  of  death. 

There  surely  is  some  blefled  clime. 
Where  life  is  not  a  breath. 


282 


Death. 


Nor  life's  affe6lions  tranfient  fire, 
Whose  sparks  fly  upwards  to  expire. 

There  is  a  world  above, 

Where  parting  is  unknown  ; 
A  whole  eternity  of  love, 
P'ormed  for  the  good  alone  : 
And  faith  beholds  the  dying  here 
Tranflated  to  that  happier  sphere. 


Thus  ftar  by  ftar  declines 

Till  we  are  palTed  away, 
As  morning  high  and  higher  (hines 
To  pure  and  perfe6l  day  ; 
Nor  fink  those  ftars  in  empty  night ; 
They  hide  themselves  in  heaven's  own  light. 

James  Montgomery.  1824. 


OUR  SAINTS. 

FROM  the  eternal  fhadow  rounding 
All  unsure  and  ftarlight  here, 
Voices  of  our  loft  ones  sounding, 
Bid  us  be  of  heart  and  cheer. 
Through  the  filence,  down  the  spaces,  falling  on  the  in- 
ward ear. 


Death.  283 

Know  we  not  our  dead  are  looking 

Downward,  as  in  sad  surprise, 
All  our  ftrife  of  words  rebuking 
With  their  mild  and  earneft  eyes  ? 
Shall  we  grieve  the  holy  angels,  fhall  we  cloud  their 
bleffed  Ikies  ? 

Let  us  draw  their  mantles  o'er  us, 
Which  have  fallen  in  our  way  : 
Let  us  do  the  work  before  us 
Calmly,  bravely,  while  we  may, 
Ere  the  long  night-filence  cometh,  and  with  us  it  is  not 
day  ! 

J.  G.  Whittier.  i860. 


THE  CLOUD  ON  THE  WAY. 


SEE,  before  us  in  our  journey  broods  a  mift  upon  the 
ground  \ 

Thither  leads  the  path  we  walk  in,  blending  with  that 

gloomy  bound. 
Never  eye  hath  pierced  its  fhadows  to  the  myftery  they 

screen. 

Those  who   once  have  pafled  within   it    nevermore  on 
earth  are  seen. 


284  Death. 

Now  it  seems  to  flop  befide  us,  now  at  seeming  distance 
lowers, 

Leaving  banks  that  tempt  us  onward  bright  with  sum- 
mer green  and  flowers. 

Yet  it  blots  the  way  forever  ;  there  our  journey  ends  at 
laft; 

Into  that  dark  cloud  we  enter,  and  are  gathered  to  the 
paft. 

Thou  who  in  this  flinty  pathway,  leading  through  a 
ftranger  land, 

Pafleft  down  the  rocky  valley,  walking  with  me  hand  in 
hand. 

Which  of  us  fhall  be  the  sooneft  folded  to  that  dim 
Unknown, 

Which  (hall  leave  the  other  walking  in  this  flmty  path 
alone  ? 

Even  now  I  see  thee  fhudder,  and  thy  cheek  is  white 
with  fear. 

And  thou  clingeft  to  my  fide  as  that  dark  mift  comes 

sweeping  near. 
"  Here,"   thou  sayft,  "the  path  is  rugged,  sown  with 

thorns  that  wound  the  feet ; 
But  the  (heltered  glens  are  lovely,  and  the  rivulet's  song 

is  sweet ; 

Roses  breathe  from  tangled  thickets ;  lilies  bend  from 
ledges  brown  ; 

Pleasantly  between  the  pelting  (bowers  the  sunfhine  gufhes 
down. 

Far  be  yet  the  hour  that  takes  me  where  that  chilly 
fhadow  lies. 


Death. 


285 


PVom  the  things  I  know  and  love,  and  from  the  fight 

of  loving  eyes." 
So   thou   murmureft,   fearful  one,   but   see,  we  tread  a 

rougher  way ; 

Fainter  grow  the  gleams  of  sunfhine  that  upon  the  dark 
rocks  play  ; 

Rude  winds  ftrew  the  faded  flowers  upon  the  crags  o'er 

which  we  pass  ; 
Banks  of  verdure,  when  we  reach  them,  hiss  with  tufts 

of  withered  grass. 
Yet  upon  the  mift  before  us  fix  thine  eyes  with  closer 

view  ; 

See,  beneath  its  sullen  fkirts,  the  rosy  morning  glimmers 
through. 

One,  whose  feet  the  thorns  have  wounded,  entered  and 
came  back, 

With  a  glory  on  his  footfteps  lighting  yet  the  dreary 
track. 

Boldly  enter  where  he  entered  ;  all  that  seems  but  dark- 
ness here. 

When  thou   once   haft  paft   beyond   it,  haply  fhall  be 
cryftal  clear. 

Seen  from  that  serener  realm,  the  walks  of  human  life 
may  lie 

Like  the  page  of  some   familiar  volume  open  to  mine 
eye. 

Haply  from  the  o'erhanging  (hadow  thou  mayft  ftretch 

an  unseen  hand. 
To  support  the  wavering  fteps  that  print  with  blood  the 

rugged  land. 


286  Death. 


Haply,  leaning  o'er  the  pilgrim  all  unweeting  thou  art 
near. 

Thou  mayft  whisper  words  of  warning  or  of  comfort  in 
his  ear. 

Till,   beyond  the  border  where   that   brooding  myftery 
bars  the  fight, 

Those  whom  thou  haft  fondly  cheriftied  ftand  with  thee 
in  peace  and  light. 

Wm,  C.  Bryant.  i860. 


OSPIRH^  freed  from  earth. 
Rejoice  thy  work  is  done  ! 
The  weary  world 's  beneath  thy  feet, 
Thou  brighter  than  the  sun. 

Arise,  put  on  the  robes 
That  the  redeemed  win  ; 
Now  sorrow  hath  no  part  in  thee, 
Thou  sanctified  within  ! 

Awake,  and  breathe  the  air 
Of  the  celeftial  clime  ! 
Awake  to  love  which  knows  no  change, 
Thou  who  haft  done  with  time  ! 


Death. 


287 


Awake,  lift  up  thine  eyes  ! 
See,  all  heaven's  hoft  appears  ! 
And  be  thou  glad  exceedingly,  — 
Thou  who  haft  done  with  tears. 

Ascend  !  thou  art  not  now 
With  those  of  mortal  birth  ; 
The  living  God  hath  touched  thy  lips, 
Thou  who  haft  done  with  earth  ! 


Mrs.  Howitt,  i860. 

* 


HEAVEN. 


THE  NEW  SONG. 

BEYOND  the  hills  where  suns  go  down, 
And  brightly  beckon  as  they  go, 
I  see  the  land  of  far  renown. 

The  land  which  I  so  soon  (hall  know. 

Above  the  diflonance  of  time. 
And  discord  of  its  angry  words, 

I  hear  the  everlafting  chime. 
The  mufic  of  unjarring  chords. 

I  bid  it  welcome  ;  and  my  hafte 
To  join  it  cannot  brook  delay  ;  — 

O  song  of  morning,  come  at  laft. 
And  ye  who  fing  it,  come  away  ! 

O  song  of  light  and  dawn  and  bliss, 
Sound  over  earth,  and  fill  these  fkies. 

Nor  ever,  ever,  ever  cease 

Thy  soul-entrancing  melodies  ! 


Heaven. 


289 


Glad  song  of  this  disburdened  earth, 
Which  holy  voices  then  fhall  fing  : 

Praise  for  creation's  second  birth, 
And  glory  to  creation's  King  ! 

H.  Bonar.  1856. 


THE  OTHER  WORLD. 


IT  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud,  — 
A  world  we  do  not  see  ; 
Yet  the  sweet  clofing  of  an  eye 
May  bring  us  there  to  be. 

Its  gentle  breezes  fan  our  cheek  ; 

Amid  our  worldly  cares 
Its  gentle  voices  whisper  love. 

And  mingle  with  our  prayers. 

Sweet  hearts  around  us  throb  and  beat. 
Sweet  helping  hands  are  ftirred. 

And  palpitates  the  veil  between 
With  breathings  almoft  heard. 

The  filence  —  awful,  sweet,  and  calm  — 
They  have  no  power  to  break  ; 

For  mortal  words  are  not  for  them 
To  utter  or  partake. 


290 


Heaven. 


So  thin,  so  soft,  so  sweet  they  gHde, 

So  near  to  press  they  seem,  — 
They  seem  to  lull  us  to  our  reft, 

And  melt  into  our  dream. 

And  in  the  hufli  of  reft  they  bring 

'T  is  easy  now  to  see 
How  lovely  and  how  sweet  a  pass 

The  hour  of  death  may  be. 

To  close  the  eye,  and  close  the  ear. 

Wrapped  in  a  trance  of  bliss, 
And  gently  dream  in  loving  arms 

To  swoon  to  that  —  from  this. 

Scarce  knowing  if  we  wake  or  fleep. 

Scarce  afking  where  we  are, 
To  feel  all  evil  fink  away. 

All  sorrow  and  all  care. 

Sweet  souls  around  us  !  watch  us  ftill. 

Press  nearer  to  our  fide, 
Into  our  thoughts,  into  our  prayers, 

With  gentle  helpings  glide. 

Let  death  between  us  be  as  naught, 

A  dried  and  vaniftied  ftream  : 
Your  joy  be  the  reality. 

Our  suffering  life  the  dream. 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe.  i860. 


Heaven. 


291 


FOREVER  with  the  Lord! 
Amen  !  so  let  it  be  ! 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 
And  immortahty. 

Here  in  the  body  pent, 
Absent  from  Him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

My  father's  house  on  high, 
Home  of  my  soul  !  how  near, 
At  times,  to  faith's  foreseeing  eye 
Thy  golden  gates  appear  ! 

Ah  !  then  my  spirit  faints 
To  reach  the  land  I  love, 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 
Jerusalem  above  ! 

Yet  clouds  will  intervene. 
And  all  my  prospe£t  flies  ; 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 
Rough  seas  and  ftormy  Ikies. 


292 

Heaven. 

A                   .1  111 

Anon  the  clouds  depart, 

The  winds  and  waters  cease  ; 

While  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart 

lid }\.V}<Xli\xo     LIJC     LHJ  W     yjl     UCtlCC  ; 

rJeneath  its  glowing  arch. 

Along  the  hallowed  ground. 

I  see  cherubic  armies  march. 

A    r'cimr^    r»r    rivf  cirr»iinrl 

I  hear  at  morn  and  even, 

At  noon  and  midnight  hour. 

The  choral  harmonies  of  heaven 

Ti'iirtKi'';   Ri?Kpi   tnncriip^i  o'prnnwpr 

1  hen,  then  i  reel,  that  rie, 

Remembered  or  forgot. 

The  Lord  is  never  far  from  me, 

'  1  'hrMirrVi    T    nprPPlVP    riim  not. 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  ! 

Father,  if  't  is  thy  will. 

The  promise  of  that  gracious  word, 

K'en  here,  to  me  fulfil. 

Be  thou  at  my  right  hand. 

Then  (hall  I  never  fail ; 

upnolu  me,  ana  1  neeus  luuii  iidnu  ^ 

Fight,  and  I  (hall  prevail. 

Heaven. 


293 


So,  when  my  lateft  breath 
Shall  rend  the  veil  in  twain, 
By  death  I  fhall  escape  from  death. 
And  life  eternal  gain. 

Knowing  as  I  am  known. 
How  fhall  I  love  that  word. 
And  oft  repeat  before  the  throne, 
"  Forever  with  the  Lord  !  " 

y.  Montgomery .  1853. 


THERE  is  a  land  of  pure  delight,' 
Where  saints  immortal  reign ; 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night. 
And  pleasures  banifh  pain. 

There  everlafting  spring  abides. 
And  never  withering  flowers  ; 

Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours. 

Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  drefl^ed  in  living  green  : 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  ftood. 
While  Jordan  rolled  between. 


294 


Heaven. 


But  timorous  mortals  ftart  and  ftirink 

To  cross  this  narrow  sea, 
And  linger  fhivering  on  the  brink, 

And  fear  to  launch  away. 

O,  could  we  make  our  doubts  remove. 

These  gloomy  doubts  that  rise. 
And  see  the  Canaan  that  we  love 

With  unbeclouded  eves,  — 

Could  we  but  climb  where  Moses  ftood. 
And  view  the  landscape  o'er,  — 

Not  Jordan's  ftream,  nor  death's  cold  flood. 
Should  fright  us  from  the  fhore. 

Isaac  Watts,     1674- 1748. 


THE  SURPASSING  GLORY  OF  GOD. 


SINCE  o'er  thy  footftool  here  below 
Such  radiant  gems  are  ftrown, 
O,  what  magnificence  muft  glow. 
Great  God,  about  Thy  throne  ! 
So  brilliant  here  these  drops  of  light,  — 
There  the  full  ocean  rolls — how  bright! 


Heaven, 


295 


If  night's  blue  curtain  of  the  fky  — 

With  thousand  ftars  inwrought, 
Hung  like  a  royal  canopy 

With  glittering  diamonds  fraught  — 
Be,  Lord,  thy  temple's  outer  veil, 
What  splendor  at  the  fhrine  muft  dwell  ! 

The  dazzling  sun  at  noonday  hour  — 

Forth  from  his  flaming  vase 
Flinging  o'er  earth  the  golden  fhower 

Till  vale  and  mountain  blaze  — 
But  fhows,  O  Lord,  one  beam  of  Thine  : 
What,  then,  the  day  where  Thou  doft  fhine  ! 

O,  how  fhall  these  dim  eyes  endure 

That  noon  of  living  rays  ! 
Or  how  our  spirits,  so  impure, 

Upon  Thy  glory  gaze  ! 
Anoint,  O  Lord,  anoint  our  fight. 
And  fit  us  for  that  world  of  light. 


HEAVEN. 

BEYOND  these  chilling  winds  and  gloomy  fkies,  — 
Beyond  death's  cloudy  portal,  — 
There  is  a  land  where  beauty  neyer  dies, 
And  love  becomes  immortal,  — 


296  Heaven. 

A  land  whose  light  is  never  dimmed  by  fhade, 

Whose  fields  are  ever  vernal, 
Where  nothing  beautiful  can  ever  fade, 

But  bloom  for  aye  eternal. 

We  may  not  know  how  sweet  its  balmy  air, 

How  bright  and  fair  its  flowers  ; 
We  may  not  hear  the  songs  that  echo  there, 

Through  those  enchanted  bowers. 

The  city's  fhining  towers  we  may  not  see 

With  our  dim  earthly  vifion  ; 
For  death,  the  filent  warder,  keeps  the  key 

That  opes  these  gates  elyfian. 

But  sometimes,  when  adown  the  weftern  fky 

The  fiery  sunset  lingers. 
Its  golden  gates  swing  inward  noiseleflly. 

Unlocked  by  filent  fingers. 

And  while  they  ftand  a  moment  half  ajar. 

Gleams  from  the  inner  glory 
Stream  brightly  through  the  azure  vault  afar. 

And  half  reveal  the  ftory. 

O  land  unknown  !   O  land  of  love  divine  ! 

Father  all  wise,  eternal. 
Guide,  guide  these  wandering,  way-worn  feet  of  mine 

Into  those  paftures  vernal. 

Miss  N.  A  W.  Prieji.  i860. 


Heaven. 


Matthew  v.  3-10. 

THERE  is  a  dwelling-place  above  ; 
Thither,  to  meet  the  God  of  love, 
The  poor  in  spirit  go  : 
There  is  a  paradise  of  reft  ; 
For  contrite  hearts  and  souls  diftreft 
Its  ftreams  of  comfort  flow. 

There  is  a  goodly  heritage. 

Where  earthly  paflions  cease  to  rage  ; 

The  meek  that  haven  gain  : 
There  is  a  board,  where  they  who  pine. 
Hungry,  athirft,  for  grace  divine, 

May  feaft,  nor  crave  again. 

There  is  a  voice  to  mercy  true  ; 
To  them  who  mercy's  path  pursue 

That  voice  fhall  bliss  impart  : 
There  is  a  fight  from  man  concealed  ; 
That  fight,  the  face  of  God  revealed. 

Shall  bless  the  pure  in  heart. 

There  is  a  name,  in  heaven  beftowed  ; 
That  name,  which  hails  them  sons  of  God, 
The  friends  of  peace  fhall  know : 


298  Heaven. 

There  is  a  kingdom  in  the  Iky, 
Where  they  fhall  reign  with  God  on  high, 
Who  serve  Him  beft  below. 

Lord!  be  it  mine  Hke  them  to  choose 
The  better  part,  Hke  them  to  use 

The  means  Thy  love  hath  given 
Be  holiness  my  aim  on  earth. 
That  death  be  welcomed  as  a  birth 

To  life  and  bliss  in  Heaven  ! 

Bijhop  R.  Mant.  1831. 


THE  CITY  OF  REST. 
"  And  the  name  of  that  city  is  reft." 


BIRDS  from  out  the  eaft,  O  birds  from  out  the 
weft. 


Have  ye  found  that  happy  city  in  all  your  weary  queft  ? 
Tell  me,  tell  me,  from  earth's  wandering  may  the  heart 

find  glad  surcease. 
Can    ye  ftiow  me  as  an   earneft  any   olive-branch  of 

peace 

I  am  weary  of  life's   troubles,  of  its   fin   and   toil  and 
care  ; 

I  am  faithless,  cruftiing  in  my  heart  so  many  a  fruitless 
prayer. 


Heaven. 


299 


O  birds  from  out  the  eaft,  O  birds  from  out  the  weft, 
Can  ye  tell  me  of  that  city  the  name  of  which  is  Reft  ? 

Say,  doth  a  dreamy  atmosphere  that  blefted  city  crown  ? 
Are  there  couches  spread   for   fleeping  softer  than  the 
eider-down  ? 

Does  the  filver  sound  of  waters,  falling  'twixt  its  marble 
walls, 

Hufh  its  solemn  filence  even  into  ftiller  intervals  ? 
Doth  the  poppy  (bed   its  influence  there,  or  doth  the 
fabled  moly 

With   its  leafy-laden  Lethe  lade  the  eyes  with  flumber 
holy  ? 

Do   they  never   wake    to    sorrow,  who,  after  toilsome 
queft. 

Have  entered  in  that  city,  the  name  of  which  is  Reft  ? 

Doth  the  fancy  wile  not  there  for  aye  ?    Is  the  reftless 

soul's  endeavor 
HulTied  in  a  rhythm  of  solemn  calm,  forever  and  forever? 
Are  human  natures  satisfied  of  their  intense  defire  ? 
Is  there  no  more  good  beyond  to  seek,  or  do  they  not 

aspire  ? 

But  weary,  weary  of  the  ore  within  its  yellow  sun. 
Do  they  lie  and  eat  its  lotus-leaves  and  dream  life's  toil 
is  done  ? 

O   tell   me,  do  they  there   forget  what  here  hath  made 
them  bleft. 

Nor  figh  again  for  home  and  friends,  in  the  city  named 
Reft? 


300  Heaven. 

O  little  birds,  fly  eaft  again,  —  O  little  birds,  fly  weft; 
Ye  have  found  no  happy  city  in  all  your  weary  queft. 
Still  fhall  ye  find  no  spot  of  reft  wherever  ye  may  ftray. 
And  ftill  like  you  the  human  soul  muft  wing  its  weary 
way. 

There  fleepeth   no  such  city   within   the   wide  earth's 
bound. 

Nor  hath  the  dreaming  fancy  yet  its  blissful  portals  found. 
We  are  but  children  crying  here  upon  a  mother's  breaft. 
For  life  and  peace  and  blefledness,  and  for  eternal  Reft ! 

Bless  God,  I  hear  a  ftill  small  voice,  above  life's  clam- 
orous din. 

Saying,  Faint  not,  O  weary  one,  thou  yet  mayft  enter  in  ; 
That  city  is  prepared   for  those  who  well  do  win  the 
fight. 

Who  tread  the  wine-press  till    its   blood  hath  waftied 

their  garments  white. 
Within  it  is  no  darkness,  nor  any  baleful  flower 
Shall  there  oppress   thy  weeping   eyes   with  stupefying 

power. 

It   lieth  calm   within   the  light    of   God's  peace-giving 
breaft. 

Its  walls  are  called  Salvation,  the  city's  name  is  Reft  ! 

Household  Words. 


Heaven.  301 


HOW  LONG  ? 

MY  God,  it  is  not  faithlefTness 
That  makes  me  say,  "  How  long  ?  " 
It  is  not  heaviness  of  heart 

That  hinders  me  in  song  ; 
'T  is  not  despair  of  truth  and  right, 
Nor  coward  dread  of  wrong. 

But  how  can  I  with  such  a  hope 

Of  glory  and  of  home. 
With  such  a  joy  before  my  eyes, 

Not  wifh  the  time  were  come. 
Of  years  the  jubilee,  —  of  days 

The  Sabbath  and  the  sum  ! 

These  years,  what  ages  have  they  been! 

This  life,  how  long  it  seems  ! 
And  how  can  I,  in  evil  days, 

'Mid  unknown  hills  and  ftreams. 
But  figh  for  those  of  home  and  heart, 

And  vifit  them  in  dreams? 

Yet  peace,  my  heart,  and  hufh,  my  tongue  j 

Be  calm,  my  troubled  breaft  ; 
Each  hurrying  hour  is  haftening  on 

The  everlafting  reft ; 


302 


Heaven. 


Thou  knoweft  that  the  time  thy  God 
Appoints  for  thee  is  beft. 

Let  faith,  not  fear  nor  fretfulness, 

Awake  the  cry,  "  How  long  ?  " 
Let  no  faint-heartedness  of  soul 

Damp  thy  aspiring  song  ; 
Right  comes,  truth  dawns,  and  night  departs 

Of  error  and  of  wrong. 

The  Cross-Bearer. 


THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 

IN  Thee  my  powers,  my  treasures  live, 
To  Thee  my  life  muft  tend  ; 
Giving  Thyself,  Thou  all  doft  give, 
O  soul-sufficing  Friend  ! 

And  wherefore  fhould  I  seek  above, 

The  City  in  the  fky 
Since  firm  in  faith,  and  deep  in  love. 

Its  broad  foundations  lie  ^ 

Since  in  a  life  of  peace  and  prayer. 
Nor  known  on  earth  nor  praised. 

By  humbleft  toil,  by  ceaseless  care. 
Its  holy  towers  are  raised  ? 


Heaven. 


Where  pain  the  soul  hath  purified, 

And  penitence  hath  fhriven, 
And  truth  is  crowned  and  glorified, 

There  —  only  there  —  is  heaven! 

Eliza  Scudder.  1858. 


SUNDAY. 


SUNDAY  MORNING. 


HOW  sweet,  how  calm  this  Sabbath  morn 
How  pure  the  air  that  breathes, 
And  soft  the  sounds  upon  it  borne, 
And  light  its  vapor  wreaths  ! 

It  seems  as  if  the  Chriftian's  prayer. 

For  peace  and  joy  and  love. 
Were  answered  by  the  very  air 

That  wafts  its  (train  above. 

Let  each  unholy  paffion  cease. 

Each  evil  thought  be  crufhed, 
Each  anxious  care  that  mars  thy  peace 

In  faith  and  love  be  huflied. 


Sunday. 


THE  SABBATH  OF  THE  SOUL. 

SLEEP,  deep  to-day,  tormenting  cares, 
Of  earth  and  folly  born  ; 
Ye  fhall  not  dim  the  light  that  ftreams 
From  this  celeftial  morn. 

To-morrow  will  be  time  enough 

To  feel  your  harfh  control ; 
Ye  fhall  not  violate,  this  day, 

The  Sabbath  of  my  soul. 

Sleep,  fleep  forever,  guilty  thoughts  ; 

Let  fires  of  vengeance  die  ; 
And,  purged  from  fin,  may  I  behold 

A  God  of  purity  ! 


Mrs.  Barhauld.  1825. 


A  HYMN  FOR  THE  SABBATH. 


3o6 

Sunday. 

On  thee,  the  high  and  lowly. 

Rpndincr  hefnre  thp  Thronp 

Sing  Holy^  Holy^  Holy^ 

To  the  Great  Three  in  One. 

On  thee,  at  the  creation, 

The  light  firft  had  its  birth  ; 

On  thee  for  our  salv^ation 

Chrift  rose  from  depths  of  earth  ; 

On  thee  our  Lord  vi6torious 

The  Spirit  sent  from  Heaven, 

And  thus  on  thee  moft  glorious 

A  triple  Light  was  given. 

Thou  art  a  port  prote£led 

From  ftorms  that  round  us  rise  ; 

A  garden  intersected 

With  ftreams  of  raradise  ; 

Thou  art  a  cooling  fountain 

Tn   1Ifp'<;  drv    Hreiirv  sand  : 

From  thee,  like  Pisgah's  mountain. 

We  view  our  Promised  Land. 

Thou  art  a  holy  ladder. 

Where  angels  go  and  come  ; 

Each  Sunday  finds  us  gladder. 

Nearer  to  heaven,  our  home  ; 

A  day  of  sweet  refle6tion. 

Thou  art  a  day  of  love  ; 

A  day  or  resurrection 

From  earth  to  things  above. 

Sunday.  307 

To-day  on  weary  nations 

The  heavenly  manna  falls  ; 
To  holy  convocations 

The  filver  trumpet  calls, 
Where  Gospel-light  is  glowing 

With  pure  and  radiant  beams, 
And  living  water  flowing 

With  soul-refreftiing  ftreams. 

New  graces  ever  gaining 

From  this  our  day  of  reft. 
We  reach  the  reft  remaining 

To  spirits  of  the  bleft  ; 
To  Holy  Ghoft  be  praises. 

To  Father  and  to  Son  ; 
The  Church  her  voice  upraises. 

To  Thee,  bleft  Three  in  One, 

Rev.  Dr.  Wordsworth.  1858. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  SABBATH. 

WE  bless  Thee  for  this  sacred  day, 
Thou  who  haft  every  bleffing  given, 
Which  sends  the  dreams  of  earth  away. 
And  yields  a  glimpse  of  opening  heaven. 


Sunday. 


Rich  day  of  holy,  thoughtful  reft  ! 
May  we  improve  thy  calm  repose, 
And,  in  God's  service  truly  bleft, 
Forget  the  world,  its  joys  and  woes. 

Lord  !   may  thy  truth  upon  the  heart 
Now  fall  and  dwell  as  heavenly  dew, 
And  flowers  of  grace  in  frefhness  ftart 
Where  once  the  weeds  of  error  grew. 

May  prayer  now  lift  her  sacred  wings, 
Contented  with  that  aim  alone 
Which  bears  her  to  the  King  of  kings, 
And  refts  her  at  his  fheltering  throne. 

Mrs.  C.  Gilman.  1848. 


THE  LORD'S  DAY. 

OTIME  of  tranquil  joy  and  holy  feeling  ! 
When  over  earth  God's  Spirit  from  above 
Spreads  out  His  wings  of  love  ; 
When  sacred  thoughts,  like  angels,  come  appealing 
To  our  tent  doors  ;  O  eve,  to  earth  and  heaven 
The  sweeteft  of  the  seven  ! 


Sunday. 


309 


How  peaceful  are  thy  fkies  !  thy  air  is  clearer, 
As  on  the  advent  of  a  gracious  time  : 

The  sweetness  of  its  prime 
Blefleth  the  world,  and  Eden's  days  seem  nearer: 
I  hear,  in  each  faint  ftirring  of  the  breeze, 

God's  voice  among  the  trees. 

O,  while  thy  hallowed  moments  are  diftilling 
Their  frefher  influence  on  my  heart  like  dews, 

The  chamber  where  I  muse 
Turns  to  a  temple  !   He  whose  converse  thrilling 
Honored  Emmaus,  that  old  eventide. 

Comes  sudden  to  my  fide. 

'T  is  light  at  evening  time  when  Thou  art  present; 
Thy  coming  to  the  eleven  in  that  dim  room 

Brightened,  O  Chrift  !  its  gloom  : 
So  bless  my  lonely  hour  that  memories  pleasant 
Around  the  time  a  heavenly  gleam  may  caft. 

Which  many  days  fhall  laft  ! 

Raise  each  low  aim,  refine  each  high  emotion. 
That  with  more  ardent  footftep  I  may  press 

Toward  Thy  holiness  ; 
And,  braced  for  sacred  duty  by  devotion. 
Support  my  cross  along  that  rugged  road 

Which  Thou  haft  sometime  trod  ! 

I  long  to  see  Thee,  for  my  heart  is  weary  : 
O  when,  my  Lord  !  in  kindness  wilt  Thou  come 
To  call  Thy  banifhed  home  ? 


310 


Sunday. 


The  scenes  are  cHeerless,  and  the  days  are  dreary  ; 
From  sorrow  and  from  fin  I  would  be  free, 
And  evermore  with  Thee  ! 

Even  now  I  see  the  golden  city  ftiining 
Up  the  blue  depths  of  that  transparent  air : 

How  happy  all  is  there ! 
There  breaks  a  day  which  never  knows  declining  ; 
A  Sabbath,  through  whose  circling  hours  the  bleft 

Beneath  Thy  fliadow  reft  ! 

7.  D.  Burns.  1855. 


THE    PRISONER    OF   THE  LORD. 

A  Sabbath  Hymn  for  a  Sick-Chamber. 

THOUSANDS,  O  Lord  of  Hofts  !  this  day 
Around  Thine  altar  meet ; 
And  tens  of  thousands  throng  to  pay 
Their  homage  at  Thy  feet. 

They  see  Thy  power  and  glory  there 

As  I  have  seen  them  too  ; 
They  read,  they  hear,  they  join  in  prayer, 

As  I  was  wont  to  do. 


Sunday. 


They  fing  Thy  deeds  as  I  have  sung, 

In  sweet  and  solemn  lays  ; 
Were  I  among  them,  my  glad  tongue 

Might  learn  new  themes  of  praise. 

For  Thou  art  in  their  midft,  to  teach 
When  on  Thy  name  they  call  ; 

And  Thou  haft  bleffings.  Lord,  for  each. 
Haft  bleffings.  Lord,  for  all. 

I,  of  such  fellowftiip  bereft. 

In  spirit  turn  to  Thee  ; 
O,  haft  Thou  not  a  bleffing  left, 

A  bleffing,  Lord,  for  me  ? 

The  dew  lies  thick  on  all  the  ground,  — 
Shall  my  poor  fleece  be  dry  ? 

The  manna  rains  from  heaven  around,  — 
Shall  I  of  hunger  die  ? 

Behold  Thy  prisoner  ;  —  loose  my  bands 

If  't  is  Thy  gracious  will ; 
If  not  —  contented  in  Thy  hands. 

Behold  Thy  prisoner  ftill  ! 

I  may  not  to  Thy  courts  repair. 

Yet  here  Thou  surely  art  ; 
Lord,  consecrate  a  house  of  prayer 

In  my  surrendered  heart. 


312 


Sunday. 


To  faith  reveal  the  things  unseen, 

To  hope  the  joys  untold  ; 
Let  love  without  a  veil  between 

Thy  glory  now  behold. 

O  make  Thy  face  on  me  to  fhine, 

That  doubt  and  fear  may  cease  ; 
Lift  up  Thy  countenance  benign 

On  me  —  and  give  me  peace. 

James  Montgomery.  1803-1853. 


SUNDAY. 

WHEN  the  worn  spirit  wants  repose, 
And  fighs  her  God  to  seek, 
How  sweet  to  hail  the  evening's  close, 
That  ends  the  weary  week  ! 

How  sweet  to  hail  the  early  dawn. 

That  opens  on  the  fight. 
When  firft  that  soul-reviving  morn 

Sheds  forth  new  rays  of  light  ! 

Sweet  dav  !   thine  hours  too  soon  will  cease 

Yet,  while  thev  gently  roll. 
Breathe,  Heavenlv  Spirit,  source  of  peace, 

A  Sabbath  o'er  my  soul ! 


Sunday. 


When  will  my  pilgrimage  be  done, 

The  world's  long  week  be  o'er, 
That  Sabbath  dawn  which  needs  no  sun. 

That  day,  which  fades  no  more  ? 

James  Edmejion.     18  20. 


A  SUNDAY  HYMN. 

LORD  of  all  being  !  throned  afar, 
Thy  glory  flames  from  sun  and  ftar  ; 
Centre  and  soul  of  every  sphere. 
Yet  to  each  loving  heart  how  near  ! 

Sun  of  our  life,  thy  wakening  ray 
Sheds  on  our  path  the  glow  of  day  ; 
Star  of  our  hope,  thy  softened  light 
Cheers  the  long  watches  of  the  night. 

Our  midnight  is  thy  smile  withdrawn  ; 
Our  noontide  is  thy  gracious  dawn  ; 
Our  rainbow  arch,  thy  mercy's  fign  ; 
All,  save  the  clouds  of  fin,  are  thine  ! 

Lord  of  all  life,  below,  above. 

Whose  light  is  truth,  whose  warmth  is  love, 

Before  thy  ever-blazing  throne 

We  afk  no  luftre  of  our  own. 


3H 


Sunday. 


Grant  us  thy  truth  to  make  us  free, 
And  kindling  hearts  that  burn  for  thee, 
Till  all  thy  living  altars  claim 
One  holy  light,  one  heavenly  flame  ! 


OF  THE  INCOMPARABLE  TREASURE  OF  THE  HOLY 
SCRIPTURES. 


ERE  is  the  spring  where  waters  flowe, 


Here  is  the  tree  where  trueth  doth  grow. 

To  lead  our  lives  therein  ; 
Here  is  the  Judge  that  ftints  the  ftrife, 

Where  men's  devices  faille  ; 
Here  is  the  bread  that  feedes  the  life 

That  death  cannot  alTaile  ; 
The  tidings  of  salvation  deare 

Come  to  our  eares  from  hence; 
The  fortress  of  our  faith  is  here, 

And  fhielde  of  our  defence. 
Then  be  not  like  the  hogge  that  hath 

A  pearle  at  his  defire. 
And  takes  more  pleasure  in  the  trough, 

And  wallowing  in  the  mire  ; 


Dr.  O.  W.  Holmes,  i860. 


To  quench  our  heate  of  finne  ; 


Sunday. 


Reade  not  this  booke  in  any  case 

But  with  a  fingle  eye  ; 
Read  not  but  firft  defire  God's  grace 

To  vnderftand  thereby  ; 
Pray  ftill  in  faith  with  this  respe6t, 

To  fru6lifie  therein, 
That  knowledge  may  bring  this  effect 

To  mortify  thy  finne. 
Then  happie  thou  in  all  thy  life, 

What  so  to  thee  befalles  ; 
Yea,  double  happie  (halt  thou  be 

When  God  by  death  thee  calles. 

From  Barker's  Bible.  1594. 


THE  ONE  CHURCH. 


OUTSIDE  THE  CHURCH. 

I STAND  without  here  in  the  porch, 
I  hear  the  bell's  melodious  din, 
I  hear  the  organ  peal  within, 
I  hear  the  prayer  with  words  that  scorch 
Like  sparks  from  an  inverted  torch, 
I  hear  the  sermon  upon  fin. 
With  threatenings  of  the  laft  account. 
And  all,  tranflated  in  the  air, 
Reach  me  but  as  our  dear  Lord's  prayer. 
And  as  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

Muft  it  be  Calvin,  and  not  Chrift? 

Muft  it  be  Athanafian  creeds. 

Or  holy  water,  books,  and  beads  ? 

Muft  ftruggling  souls  remain  content 

With  councils  and  decrees  of  Trent  ? 

And  can  it  be  enough  for  these 

The  Chriftian  Church  the  year  embalms 

With  evergreens  and  boughs  of  palms. 

And  fills  the  air  with  litanies  ? 


The  One  Church. 


I  know  that  yonder  Pharisee 
Thanks  God  that  he  is  not  like  me  ; 
In  my  humiliation  drefled, 
I  only  ftand  and  beat  my  breaft, 
And  pray  for  human  charity. 

Not  to  one  church  alone,  but  seven, 
The  voice  prophetic  spake  from  heaven  : 
And  unto  each  the  promise  came, 
Diverfified,  but  ftill  the  same; 
For  him  that  overcometh  are 
The  new  names  written  on  the  ftone. 
The  raiment  white,  the  crown,  the  throne. 
And  I  will  give  him  the  Morning  Star  ! 

Ah  !  to  how  many  Faith  has  been 
No  evidence  of  things  unseen, 
But  a  dim  fliadow  that  recafts 
The  creed  of  the  Phantafiafts, 
For  whom  no  Man  of  Sorrows  died, 
For  whom  the  Tragedy  Divine 
Was  but  a  symbol  and  a  fign. 
And  Chrift  a  phantom  crucified  ! 

For  others  a  diviner  creed 
Is  living  in  the  life  they  lead. 
The  paffing  of  their  beautiful  feet 
BlefTes  the  pavement  of  the  ftreet. 
And  all  their  looks  and  words  repeat 
Old  Fuller's  saying,  wise  and  sweet. 


3i8 


The  One  Church. 


Not  as  a  vulture,  but  a  dove, 
The  Holy  Ghoft  came  from  above. 

H.  W.  Longfellow.  1863. 


FICUS  RELIGIOSA. 


THE  Banyan  of  the  Indian  ifle 
Spreads  deeply  down  its  maffive  root, 
And  spreads  its  branching  life  abroad. 

And  bends  to  earth,  with  scarlet  fruit ; 
But  when  the  branches  reach  the  ground, 

They  firmly  plant  themselves  again  : 
They  rise  and  spread  and  droop  and  root. 
An  ever  green  and  endless  chain. 

And  so  the  Church  of  Jesus  Chrift, 

The  blelTed  Banyan  of  our  God, 
Faft-rooted  upon  Zion's  mount. 

Has  sent  its  fheltering  arms  abroad ; 
And  every  branch  that  from  it  springs, 

In  sacred  beauty  spreading  wide, 
As  low  it  bends  to  bless  the  earth, 

Still  plants  another  by  its  fide. 

Long  as  the  world  itself  fhall  laft. 
The  sacred  Banyan  fl:ill  fhall  spread. 


The  One  Church. 


From  clime  to  clime,  from  age  to  age, 
Its  fheltering  fhadow  fhall  be  fhed. 

Nations  fhall  seek  its  pillared  fhade, 
Its  leaves  fhall  for  their  healing  be  : 

The  circling  flood  that  feeds  its  life. 
The  blood  that  crimsoned  Calvary. 


ONE  IN  CHRIST. 

ONE  baptism  and  one  faith, 
One  Lord  below,  above. 
The  fellowfhip  of  Zion  hath 

One  only  u^atchw^ord,  —  Love. 
From  different  temples  though  it  rise. 
One  song  ascendeth  to  the  fkies. 

Our  sacrifice  is  One  ; 

One  prieft  before  the  throne,  — 
The  crucified,  the  risen  Son, 

Redeemer,  Lord  alone  ! 
And  fighs  from  contrite  hearts  that  spring. 
Our  chief,  our  choicefl  offering. 

O  why  fhould  they  who  love 

One  Gospel  to  unfold. 
Who  look  for  one  bright  home  above, 

On  earth  be  ftrange  and  cold  ? 


320 


The  One  Church. 


Why,  subjects  of  the  Prince  of  Peace, 
In  ftrife  abide,  and  bitterness  ? 

O  may  that  holy  prayer  — 

His  tendereft  and  His  laft, 
The  utterance  of  His  lateft  care 

Ere  to  His  throne  He  pafled  — 
No  longer  unfulfilled  remain. 
The  world's  offence,  the  people's  ftain  ! 

Head  of  Thy  Church  beneath. 

The  Catholic,  —  the  true, — 
On  her  disjointed  members  breathe. 

Her  broken  frame  renew  ! 
Then  fhall  Thy  perfect  will  be  done 
When  Chriftians  love  and  live  as  one. 

E.  Robinson. 


ALL-SEEING  God  !  't  is  Thine  to  know 
The  springs  whence  wrong  opinions  flow 
To  judge,  from  principles  within. 
When  frailty  errs,  and  when  we  fin. 

Who  among  men,  great  Lord  of  all. 
Thy  servant  to  his  bar  (hall  call  ? 
Judge  him,  for  modes  of  faith,  thy  foe. 
And  doom  him  to  the  realms  of  woe  ? 


The  One  Church. 


321 


Who  with  another's  eye  can  read  ? 
Or  worfhip  by  another's  creed  ? 
Trufting  thy  grace,  we  form  our  own, 
And  bow  to  thy  commands  alone. 

If  wrong,  correct ;  accept,  if  right  ; 
While  faithful,  we  improve  our  light. 
Condemning  none,  but  zealous  ftill 
To  learn  and  follow  all  thy  will. 

Scott. 


DEDICATION  HYMN. 


ONE  Father,  God,  we  own  ; 
One  Spirit  evermore  ; 
One  Chrift,  with  manger,  cross,  and  throne. 
The  Light,  the  Way,  the  Door. 

In  souls  we  hail  his  birth  ; 

'T  is  now  he  comes  again  ; 
His  kingdom  is  the  convert  Earth, 

His  Church  all  faithful  men. 

The  Scriptures  thus  we  read  ; 

Of  ftrangeft  powers  compiled. 
To  mould  the  heart  and  clear  the  creed 

Of  earth's  frail,  clouded  child. 


I  

322 


The  One  Church. 


Its  eflence,  not  its  writ, 

Our  sovereign  rule  we  call  ; 
Not  faftening  down  all  truth  to  it, 

But  widening  it  to  all. 

With  this  free  reverence.  Lord, 

In  Chriftly  church  eftate, 
With  earneft,  brotherly  accord, 

These  walls  we  dedicate 

To  prayer  and  holy  thought ; 

AfFe6lions  set  above  ; 
To  faiths  from  higheft  fountains  brought. 

And  works  of  wideft  love. 

Thy  presence.  Father,  make 

The  refuge  and  supply  ; 
And  for  thy  Truth  and  Mercy's  sake 

Build  on,  and  san6i:ify. 

Dr.  N.  L.  Frothingham.  1863. 


THE  CHURCH  UNIVERSAL. 

ONE  holy  Church  of  God  appears 
Through  every  age  and  race, 
Unwafted  by  the  lapse  of  years, 
Unchanged  by  changing  place. 


The  One  Church. 


323 


From  oldeft  time,  on  fartheft  shores, 

Beneath  the  pine  or  palm, 
One  Unseen  Presence  flie  adores. 

With  filence  or  with  psalm. 

Her  priefts  are  all  God's  faithful  sons 

To  serve  the  world  raised  up  j 
The  pure  in  heart  her  baptized  ones. 

Love  her  communion  cup. 

he  truth  is  her  prophetic  gift. 
The  soul  her  sacred  page  ; 
And  feet  on  mercy's  errands  swift 
Do  make  her  pilgrimage. 

O  living  Church  !  thine  errand  speed  ; 

Fulfil  thy  tafk  sublime  ; 
With  bread  of  life  Earth's  hunger  feed  ; 

Redeem  the  evil  time  ! 

Rev.  S.  Longfellow.  1863. 


LIFE  OF  AGES. 


LIFE  of  Ages,  richly  poured, 
Love  of  God,  unspent  and  free, 
Flowing  in  the  Prophet's  word 
And  the  People's  liberty  ! 


324 


The  One  Church. 


Never  was  to  chosen  race 

That  unftinted  tide  confined  ; 
Thine  is  every  time  and  place, 

Fountain  sweet  of  heart  and  mind  ! 

Secret  of  the  morning  ftars, 

Motion  of  the  oldeft  hours, 
Pledge  through  elemental  wars 

Of  the  coming  spirit's  powers  ! 

Breathing  in  the  thinker's  creed, 

Pulfing  in  the  hero's  blood. 
Nerving  fimpleft  thought  and  deed, 

Frefhening  time  with  truth  and  good, 

Consecrating  art  and  song. 

Holy  book  and  pilgrim  track. 
Hurling  floods  of  tyrant  wrong 

From  the  sacred  limits  back,  — 

Life  of  Ages,  richly  poured. 

Love  of  God,  unspent  and  free, 
Flow  ftill  in  the  Prophet's  word 

And  the  People's  liberty  ! 

Rev.  S.  Johnson.  1863. 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


Page 

Ah  I  why  fliould  bitter  tears  be  fhed  55 

A  little  bird  I  am  182 

All-seeing  God  !  'tis  Thine  to  know        ......  320 

Almighty  Former  of  this  wondrous  plan       .       .       .       .       .  197 

And  is  there  nothing  to  be  done       .       .       .       .       .       .  -153 

A  poor  wayfaring  Man  of  gi'ief    .       .       .       .       .       .       .  218 

Are  we  not  nobles  ?    We  who  trace  .       .       .       .       .       .  .140 

Arise  !  this  day  shall  shine  ........  37 

A  safe  ftronghold  our  God  is  flill   .16 

As  body  when  the  soul  has  fled    .......  155 

As,  down  in  the  sunless  retreats  of  the  ocean    .....  240 

A  soldier's  course,  from  battles  won     .       .       .       .       .       .  27 

As  flrangers,  — glad  for  this  good  inn       ......  138 

Author  of  good,  to  Thee  we  turn         ......  132 

A  voice  from  the  desert  comes  awful  and  fhrill  20 

Awake,  my  soul,  awake  to  prayer        .       .       .       .       .       .  126 

Awake,  ye  saints,  and  raise  your  eyes       .       .       .       .       .  -257 

Before  Jehovah,'s  awful  throne      .......  146 

Begin  the  day  with  God  .........  105 

Behold  the  wefbem  evening  light   275 

Be  not  afaid  to  pray,  —  to  pray  is  right     ......  80 

Beyond  the  hills  where  suns  go  down   288 

Beyond  these  chilling  winds  and  gloomy  Ikies    .....  295 

Bowed  'neath  the  load  of  human  ill      .....       .  93 


326 


Index  to  Firji  Lines. 


Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm  .       .       .       .       .       .  221 

Carry  me  across !     .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .  8 

Chrift,  whose  glory  fills  the  Ikies  .       .       .       .       .       .       .  109 

Cling  to  the  Mighty  One   169 

Come,  Holy  Spirit !  from  the  height    ......  177 

Come  Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove   .       .       .       .       .       .       •  I75 

Come,  let  us  pray  :  't  is  sweet  to  feel   85 

Come,  mighty  Spirit,  penetrate        .       .       .       .       .       .  .176 

Come  !  said  Jesus'  sacred  voice    .......  57 

Come  unto  me,  when  fhadows  darkly  gather     .....  256 

Come,  ye  thankful  people,  come  .......  144 

Dear  Friend,  whose  presence  in  the  house   180 

Dear  God,  that  watch  doth  keep  .       .       .       .       .       .       .  112 

Deem  not  that  they  are  bleft  alone  .......  63 

Father,  I  call  on  Thee         ........  14 

Father  !  into  Thy  loving  hands  246 

Father,  when  o'er  our  trembling  hearts        .....  64 

Flow  on,  thou  Fountain  of  my  joy   .       .       .       •       •       •       •  5^ 

Forever  with  the  Lord         ........  291 

Friend  after  friend  departs       .       .       .       .       •       •       •  .281 

From  lips  divine,  like  healing  balm      ......  35 

From  my  lips  in  their  defilement      .......  97 

From  the  eternal  fhadow  rounding   282 

Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears      .       .       .       .       .       •       •  -159 

God  doth  not  leave  His  own        .......  53 

God  moves  in  a  myfterious  way       .......  40 

God  of  my  childhood  and  my  youth     ......  267 

God's  ways  are  not  as  our  ways        .       .       .       .       .       •  .198 

Go  not  far  from  me,  O  my  Strength   206 

Go  to  dark  Gethsemane  .........  59 

Go  to  the  grave  in  all  thy  glorious  prime   18 

Gracious  Source  of  every  bleffing  !......•  274 

Gracious  Spirit,  dwell  with  me     .......  100 

Had  I  a  thousand  hearts,  I'd  raise   210 


J 


Index  to  Firjl  Lines.  327 


Had  I  the  tongues  of  Greeks  and  Jews         .       .       .       .       .  211 

Hark  !  the  glad  sound  !  the  Saviour  comes       .....  166 

Hath  not  thy  heart  within  thee  burned  ......  223 

Hear  my  prayer,  O  Heavenly  Father   122 

Here  is  the  spring  where  waters  flowe   314 

Here,  sweetly  forgetting  and  wholly  forgot   189 

He  who  himself  and  God  would  know   222 

How  blefl  is  he  whose  tranquil  mind        .       .       .       .       .  .270 

How  happy  are  the  new-born  race        .       .       .       .       .       .  195 

How  meanly  dwells  the  immortal  mind     ......  248 

How  (halt  thou  bear  the  cross  that  now        .....  46 

How  sweet,  how  calm  this  Sabbath  morn  ......  304 

Humbly  while  my  soul  doth  prove       ......  61 

I  am  old  and  blind  ..........  250 

I  and  my  house  are  ready.  Lord  .......  107 

I  beg  of  you,  I  beg  of  you,  my  brothers   loi 

I  cannot  find  Thee !    Still  on  reftless  pinion         .       .       .       .  158 

If  any  be  diftreffed,  and  fain  would  gather   83 

I  know  not  if  or  dark  or  bright    .       .       .       .       .       .       .  235 

I  look  to  Thee  in  every  need   168 

I  love  to  fteal  awhile  away   .        .       .       .       .       .       .       .  117 

I 'm  returning,  not  departing   279 

In  the  beginning  was  the  Word   31 

In  Thee  my  powers,  my  treasures  live   302 

In  the  hour  of  my  diftress   95 

In  the  ftill  filence  of  the  voiceless  night   130 

I  place  an  offering  at  Thy  fhrine   190 

Is  this  the  way,  my  Father?   36 

I  (land  without  here  in  the  porch   316 

It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear   29 

It  is  not  time  that  flies   278 

It  lies  around  us  like  a  cloud   289 

I  was  a  wandering  fheep      ........  172 

Jesus,  caft  a  look  on  me   99 

Jesus  !  lover  of  my  soul       ........  170 

Jesus,  the  very  thought  is  sweet        .......  167 

Judge  not ;  the  workings  of  his  brain    .       .       .       .       .       .  75 


328                        Index  to  Firft  Lines. 

Kingdoms  and  thrones  to  God  belong      .       .       .       .  . 

Let  deepeft  filence  all  around  ...... 

Long  plunged  in  sorrow,  I  refign  ... 

Lord,  a  happy  child  of  Thine  .... 

Lord  of  all  being  !  throned  afar 

Lord,  teach  us  how  to  pray  aright  ..... 

82 

Lord,  the  lights  are  gleaming  from  the  diftant  fliore  . 

.  264 

Lord,  Thou  haft  given  me  a  cell  . 

Lord,  many  times  I  am  a-weary  quite  .... 

14.7 

Love  conftitutes  my  crime  ....... 

184 

Love  !  if  thy  deflined  sacrifice  am  I  . 

.  186 

23 

Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord  . 

5 

My  God  !  in  life's  moft  doubtful  hour  ..... 

89 

My  God,  in  Thee  all  fulness  lies  ..... 

•  236 

My  God  !  is  any  hour  so  sweet  ...... 

86 

•  301 

74 

My  God  protects  :  my  fears  begone  ..... 

238 

My  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I  may  claim 

45 

My  heart  is  easy  and  my  burden  light  ..... 

189 

My  heart  is  refling,  0  my  God  ..... 

.  203 

143 

271 

.  231 

Not  on  a  prayerless  bed  ....... 

78 

298 

0  day  of  reft  and  gladness  ....... 

306 

•  17 

0  for  a  closer  walk  with  God  ...... 

148 

.  224 

32 

Index  to  F'lrji  Lines.  329 


O  happy  soul  that  lives  on  high        .......  230 

O  help  us,  Lord  !  each  hour  of  need     ......  88 

O  Holy  Father,  juft  and  true   19 

O  Israel,  to  thy  tents  repair   25 

O  Lord  !  how  happy  is  the  time   233 

O  Lord,  turn  not  Thy  face  away  .......  87 

O  Loved !  but  not  enough        ........  181 

O  Shadow  in  a  sultry  land    ........  116 

O  sometimes  gleams  upon  our  fight  .......  2 

O  spirit,  freed  from  earth     ........  286 

O  this  is  bleffmg,  this  is  reft   205 

O  Thou  great  Friend  to  all  the  sons  of  men   33 

O  Thou  who  didfb  deny  to  me  ........  66 

O  timely  happy,  timely  wise        .......  no 

O  time  of  tranquil  joy  and  holy  feeling     ......  308 

O  to  have  dwelt  in  Bethlehem      .       .       .       .       .       .       .  215 

O'er  the  dark  wave  of  Galilee  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       •  58 

One  baptism,  and  one  faith  .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .  319 

One  Father,  God,  we  own       .       .       .       .       ,       ,       .  .321 

One  holy  Church  of  God  appears  .......  322 

One  prayer  I  have,  —  all  prayers  in  one    .       .       .       .       .  -103 

One  year  ago,  —  a  ringing  voice  .......  38 

Only  waiting  till  the  fhadows    ........  245 

Open,  Lord,  mine  inward  ear      .......  225 

OppreiTion  fhall  not  always  reign      .       .       .       .       .       .  .21 

Our  God,  our  Father,  with  us  flay       ......  28 

Our  God  !  our  God  !  Thou  fhineft  here    ......  i 

Our  pathway  oft  is  wet  with  tears         .       .       .       .       .       .  273 

Out  of  the  dark  the  circling  sphere   .......  22 

Peace  !    Be  ftill !   42 

Prisoners  of  hope  !  be  ftrong,  be  bold   26 

Peace,  troubled  soul  '    Thou  needft  not  fear        .       .       .       .  241 

Quiet,  Lord,  my  froward  heart         .......  229 

Saviour  !  though  my  rebellious  will   152 

See,  before  us  in  our  journey    ........  283 

Sickness  is  a  school  severe    ........  49 


330                        Index  to  Firji  Lines. 

Since  o'er  Thy  footftool  here  below  .       .       .       .  . 

.  294 

Skies  are  dark  and  winds  are  moaning  .... 

261 

Sleep,  fleep  to-day,  tormenting  cares        .       .       .  . 

•  305 

Sometimes  a  light  surprises  ...... 

102 

Sow  with  a  generous  hand  ...... 

.  214 

Star  of  morn  and  even  .  ...... 

131 

Strong  are  all  the  walls  around  me    .        .        .        .  . 

.    .  183 

Strong-souled  Reformer,  whose  far-seeing  faith 

33 

Sweet  Saviour  !  bless  us  ere  we  go  . 

120 

That  myftic  word  of  Thine,  0  sovereign  Lord 

93 

The  Banyan  of  the  Indian  ifle  ...... 

•       .  318 

The  child  leans  on  its  parent's  breaft  .... 

228 

The  day  is  ended.    Ere  I  fink  to  fleep     .       .       .  . 

122 

The  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand  ..... 

3 

The  foe  behind,  the  deep  before       .       .       .       .  . 

12 

The  hour  of  my  departure 's  come  .... 

269 

The  hour,  the  hour,  the  parting  hour        .        .        .  . 

.  276 

The  Lord  descended  from  above  ..... 

.       .  165 

The  Lord  is  King  !  lift  up  thy  voice  .        .        .        .  . 

.  160 

The  Lord  my  paflure  fliall  prepare  .... 

213 

The  prayers  I  make  will  then  be  sweet  indeed  . 

.  81 

The  purple  morning  gilds  the  eaflern  fl-cies  . 

113 

Therefore,  0  friend  !  1  would  not,  if  I  might  . 

.  70 

There  is  a  dwelling-place  above  ..... 

297 

There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight ...... 

•  293 

There  is  a  land  where  beauty  cannot  fade 

.       .  56 

There  is  a  light  in  yonder  fkies         .        .        .        .  . 

.       .  187 

The  seed  muft  die  before  the  corn  appears  . 

.       .  69 

These  hairs  of  age  are  meffengers      .        .        .        .  . 

.  254 

These  years  of  life,  —  what  do  they  seem  ?  . 

266 

The  fliadovvs  of  the  evening  hours     .       .       .       .  . 

.  118 

The  time  for  toil  is  paft  ...... 

.       .  156 

1  lie  weaiy  uciy  tiL  iciigiu  ib  petit         .         .         .         .  . 

The  world  can  neither  give  nor  take  .... 

237 

The  world  is  wise,  for  the  world  is  old      .       .       .  . 

•  150 

They  talked  of  Jesus  as  they  went  .... 

.       .  178 

This  did  not  once  so  trouble  me       .       ,       .       .  . 

.  149 

Index  to  Firjl  Lines.  331 


This  gracious  promise,  Lord,  fulfil   91 

Thou  all-sufficient  One   163 

Thou  art  the  Way  ;  and  he  who  fighs   174 

Though  some  good  things  of  lower  worth  ......  201 

Thou  God  of  Love  !  beneath  thy  fheltering  wings         .       ,       .  281 

Thou  hidden  Source  of  calm  repose   227 

Thou,  long  disowned,  reviled,  oppreft   10 

Thousands,  O  Lord  of  Hofls  !  this  day   310 

Through  night  to  light .        ........  71 

Thus  saith  God  of  His  Anointed   13 

Thy  will  be  done  !   I  will  not  fear       ......  104 

'T  was  in  the  watches  of  the  night    .       .       .       .       .       •  .129 

We  bless  thee  for  this  sacred  day         ......  307 

We  see  not,  know  not  ;  all  our  way  .......  6 

We  will  not  weep  ;  for  God  is  flanding  by  us       .       .       .       •  54 
What  ails  my  heart,  that  in  my  breaft      .       .       .       .       .  .124 

What  are  these  in  bright  array  ?.......  48 

W^hen  all  Thy  mercies,  O  my  God   142 

When  darkness  long  has  veiled  my  mind      .....  73 

When  gathering  clouds  around  I  view      ......  262 

When  God  upheaved  the  pillared  earth         .....  239 

When  in  the  vale  of  lengthened  years       ......  265 

When  life's  tempefhuous  ftorms  are  o'er        .....  268 

When  the  worn  spirit  wants  repose  .       .       .       .       .       .  -312 

While  Thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power   90 

While  toil  and  warfare  urge  us  on  our  way       .       .       .       .  -133 

Who,  that  a  watcher  doth  remain         ......  67 

Why  shouldfl  thou  ftudy  in  the  month  of  June  .....  241 

Without  hafle  !  without  reft  !.....,.  76 

With  years  oppreffed,  with  sorrow  worn   ......  252 

Would  you  be  young  again  ?         .......  255 

Yes,  I  will  always  love  ;  and,  as  I  ought  .       .       .       ,       .  .191 

Yes,  thou  mayft  weep,  for  Jesus  fhed    ......  43 

Your  harps,  ye  trembling  saints        .......  258 

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i 


